Letters
by NotMeagain
Summary: This story is about the recollections of the man who saved the world, a Selkie who didn't have anything to do with him, and why they met.
1. Letters to Adamanta

**He wasn't looking for answers, but he found a reason to search for them.**

**Letters to Adamanta**

There were some who sought to understand miasma. Others sought to destroy it. And I was one of the many foolish ones who decided to accept it.

Which is weird, coming from an alchemist.

But what more could we do, really. Miasma was part of our history, our way of living, since immemorial times. Sure, there was supposed to be a time in which there was no miasma, but I wasn't born then, I didn't live those times, so I can't force myself to believe they were true. Think about it this way: old research sometimes helps in the present, but eventually most of it will become completely obsolete. In that way, the past may help us believe in brighter times, but there was none of that those days.

Until one day when, Poof, miasma was gone.

Well, it wasn't so much a Poof; it took many days for the wind to finally blow the last of the poisonous mist away from the roads and towns. But the moment miasma stopped being something more than a passing toxic cloud was something palpable. The realization seared the hearts of people, and there was an outcry of joy- an actual yell of victory that ran, I suppose, the world over.

I was in Fum at that moment, accompanying the caravan from Shella, who were making their way specifically to Conall Curach.

We were sitting outside the old caravaner's home, in a rare moment of simplicity when we weren't discussing any scientific or philosophical mystery, but talking about our families and loved ones. Of missed events in children's life, of rocky relationships with siblings, and of long distance love that was happy to be just the way it was. Mostly, I listened.

We had fallen quiet some minutes before, and it was during this silence that the world changed. The piercing sound that came from far away only caused alarm in us and the rest of the villagers. We sprang to our feet, weapons at the ready as we tried to figure out what could be causing such a loud noise. It grew until it was a high pitched whistle, and then it sounded like something crumbled, ultimately ending in a thunderous rumble. But as Amidatty noted, the rumble was coming from the earth.

A small girl called out, Look! Look at the sky! As she pointed, hopping in place. We turned, and saw it: a ring- a ring of clear air! It was expanding quickly, growing, pushing the mist away and letting the sun truly shine on the earth for the first time in centuries.

I followed it with my sight as it soared over me, and squinted at the sunlight it left behind.

Is this really happening? Somebody asked. I couldn't answer.

How many times and how many of us had imagined a clear sky? Was I just having a vivid daydream that had gotten out of my control, making me unable to tell the difference between reality and fantasy?

Almost unwillingly, I walked towards the edge of town, towards the edge of the crystal's protection. Others did too, but I didn't notice at that time.

The wind was blowing strong, and when I finally stepped out of the boundaries of security, I took a deep, deep breath. I closed my eyes as my chest swelled, awaiting the sting of miasma to come painfully and wake me up. But it didn't.

By the gods! People screamed, It's gone! Others had been reduced to cheering, or crying, and I couldn't think, couldn't move. When I opened my eyes, they were filled with tears too. What was I supposed to do now?

Breathe, I said to myself. Breathe; and if this is a dream, don't you _ever_ wake up.

xXx

My father said the path of alchemy is a tricky one, because you're never sure what you are dealing with. It delves with mysteries and the unknown, with trial and error. Variables, possibilities, uncertainties.

He also said that alchemy is something that requires a hands-on approach; that those who sit down and bury their faces in large, old tomes are wasting their time if they don't go out and experience or experiment with the things they read about. And he figured that there was a stereotype to alchemy that advertised it as boring, so that was why Selkies normally weren't interested in it- our kind doesn't really have the patience for it (thought I know most of my friends would love to be able to set things on fire with their minds.)

But my father is a smart guy, and since me and my brother Gan Noo were young, he took us out on small expeditions near the shoreline of Leuda and explained everything we saw. While small crabs and fish aren't as interesting as they are pretty, it does cause a sense of wonder in a child to know that because of those small guys, large fish come and are caught by the merchants and our village manages to thrive.

Most importantly, though, he made the expeditions fun. He was one of the few parents that let their children jump into the water, and challenged us to find the prettiest coral in exchange for gil. Sometimes we were even allowed to go to the shipwreck and dive in hopes of finding treasure.

So we grew up with that curiosity and willingness to explore in us, and we didn't mind a little research now and then. For some reason, though, we weren't chosen to be on Leuda's caravan. We caused a ruckus in town because we had been counting so much on it that we thought it was a given. We shunned people, cursed the elder and were generally displeasing for a while.

But once again, our father intervened and called us on our idiocy. One opportunity had slipped away, but it didn't mean we were stranded on Leuda forever. I don't think he foresaw the solution we came up with, but he took it in good humor when we escaped on a merchant ship. Our mother _was_ pretty angry, but she resigned herself to yell at us from the port, telling us that at least we should bring back money or rare goods.

Guess that's why my brother became a merchant in the end, and we parted ways.

.

They say us Selkies are thieves, but in Leuda it was more like we just shared everything; there was no point in getting mad at one another if we were used to taking things without permission. In the mainland, people don't seem to take too kindly to that kind of mischief.

In Alfitaria, there was a Wanted poster on the streets with the rough sketch of another Selkie. Whatever, I thought; it wasn't my concern at the beginning, but there _was _something peculiar about the picture: the compact crystal the man wore on his hat. And I thought, That's it! My ticket to the forests and mountains outside the main roads; no more sticking to merchant caravans at last!

It took some work, a lot of patience and possibly illegal situations, but in the end I got one. And so, armed with what little money I had earned from the merchant business and a weapon Marr's Pass' caravan had been kind enough to spare, I finally set out to explore the world the way I wanted.

At first, I was bumbling from one place to another, recollecting as much information and research as I could. It was mostly curiosity what drove me, no real goal, and my father was happy to work with the material I sent him. In turn, I tested his weapon designs and didn't have to worry about much else. The world, to me, at that moment, was simple: there were monsters and miasma on one side, and myrrh and civilization on the other. The trick was in finding a way around our problems, and we had done that a long time ago.

Maybe that was why I avoided crystal caravans in general; I didn't want this comfortable idealization to end.

That changed in Shella one year, when I met De Nam.

I had heard of him before, and thought he was completely foolish. Trying to adapt one's body to miasma? Sounded impossible. But upon seeing him for the first time, I was stunned: the resemblance to my brother was incredible. That gave me a sense of familiarity that prompted me to talk to him; at least once, I told myself.

So I approached his workplace with the pretext of waiting for the tailor to finish making an accessory. It was…humble, to say the least. There was a makeshift table, laden with papers with rocks on them so that the wind wouldn't blow them away; a stool, some barrels with heavy books on them, and a single lantern. And it felt like it was forbidden territory; even the Yukes also in the tailor's shop seemed to avoid getting close to that corner.

He was hunched over some ancient scriptures, but I knew he had noticed me before I spoke. I've heard word of you, I said to him and he frowned at me. I didn't want to have any animosity between me and somebody who looked so much like Gan Noo, so I said I was honestly curious about his work (and maybe I truly was, wanting to hear another kind of philosophy). His mood didn't improve, and for a moment it seemed like he had decided to ignore me.

But I pressed on, saying that this was coming from another man of science. With some reluctance, he began explaining, and I listened intently. As he went on, he became more passionate about the subject, his speech becoming more intricate and retrospective, as if he was discovering new things as he recounted his work. So much that in the end, it may not have been his theories what convinced me, but his own attitude about it.

When he finished explaining, he simply turned his back to me and continued reading. I didn't push it, and left to rest.

We met once more at the end of that day, outside the inn, on the platform from where one can see Veo Lu Sluice from afar.

He hadn't seen another Selkie in a long time; the last time he met the caravan from Leuda, they told him they didn't like Shella very much, and preferred to stay away from it. After that, he hadn't expected to meet a Selkie with the littlest ounce of passion for research in them, but there I was, and frankly, he was glad.

I kept my mouth shut about my philosophy, and chose to ask him about his own.

Weren't people tired of fighting? He wondered. He knew he was. Wasn't people's true forte adapting? He knew he had. He just wanted to be free.

He continued, saying that since he believed miasma was as natural as the wind or water, there was no point in fighting it, because people ought to be in harmony with nature. It was foolish to antagonize something that didn't have a mind of its own; that simply existed without the _intention_to cause harm.

In his eyes, people could conquer anything, get anything they wanted. In the end, he was a Selkie, in a strange, noble way.

Before we parted, he asked me about Conall Curach. Amidatty had told him about the desolated place, but Amidatty wasn't a Selkie.

I told him that a Selkie would never, ever see the sun shine in that place, and the death of our ancestors still lingered in the air. The place _is_death itself; no good for our kin, no good for anybody.

.

After that day, I was unsure of what to do. Suddenly designing weapons wasn't as interesting as it used to be. The history of miasma and the world became so much more alluring and…important. I didn't know what direction to take, because it was like starting from scratch.

So I cursed my luck and started from scratch. And I literally began from the very beginning.

The only significant event in geological history that preceded the appearance of miasma was the meteorite. Soon after it plummeted from the sky, miasma appeared. A hundred years after that, monsters were first sighted. It is assumed, then, that the meteorite was the source of these things, although some argue that it was merely a coincidence and miasma and monsters simply took a long time to reach these parts of the world.

In truth, miasma does spread slowly. In the times that Rebena Te Ra was a thriving city, there were already traces of it, but only in inhospitable places. This is partly the reason why, when it began to invade more and more territory, people were able to form communities around the larger crystals quickly.

However, records of that time are, at best, rudimentary. One of the many mysteries about our history with miasma is how we came to know about the necessity of myrrh, and where to find it. Chronicles only go back so far, and they mostly help with the identification of monsters and locations than with the mystery of miasma itself. Where exactly the meteor fell is also unknown. Ancient charts show the impact site to lie west of Rebena Te Ra, but there's an impenetrable miasma stream blocking the way, as if miasma itself was trying to protect its secrets.

My goal never was to rid the world of miasma. I simply wanted to understand. I was sure De Nam knew all those things about the meteorite, but he had decided not to dwell in the past; his research was for the future, and I understood that. He was going for a breakthrough.

After doing some research on my own and only discovering legends and not facts, I sought Amidatty out. De Nam trusted him, and he had his fame as a prominent researcher and alchemist so he probably had many things to say about both the past and the present.

Despite all my tracking him down, we met by pure chance one late evening when Shella's caravan was camping on the side of a main road. At first they thought I was a thief, and it took a lot of convincing to prove I was trustworthy. What did the trick was me tacking out a letter I had received not so long ago and Amidatty recognizing the handwriting on it.

Are you in the same foolish endeavor as he? Amidatty asked, and I was surprised that he believed De Nam's goal to be foolish. As it turned out, he didn't agree with De Nam's vision but didn't discourage him from it, saying that that's not something men of science should do to each other.

I told him my interest was in the past, and he and the other members of the caravan were more than happy to discuss that.

From their wagon they took out what they called a model of the world, which turned out to be a molding loaf of bannock. One has to make due with what one has at hand, so I simply nodded in agreement and let them explain.

The mold represented miasma, they said. Then they pointed at a large whole on one side of the loaf and explained that was the site of the meteorite collision, which was where 'miasma' had first appeared.

I asked what they knew about the collision site and the miasma stream that guarded it. They theorized that since that was where miasma originated from, the toxic gas was in its purest form and wasn't diluted with the other elements of the world. Nobody had been able to cross that stream because nobody could match the element; it, quite simply, wasn't available in any other part of the world.

I travelled with them for a few more days, and even had the opportunity of accompanying them into Selepation Cave.

Besides a scholar and philosopher Amidatty is a fierce fighter, but he never goes at it alone. They're the tightest team I've ever met: Yufina is mostly a healer, while Amidatty and Leonamiel go on the offensive, almost never using physical attacks; Bessamzan carries the chalice and acts as a backup healer. And it's not just strategy, it's trust what they have in one another, and a strong sense of duty… even if it distracts them from their research.

Miasma always hinders our path, Leonamiel said one day before we finally parted ways; we cannot put research in front of the safety of Shella.

She was trying to excuse herself and the caravan. I had suggested that we go to Rebena Te Ra and explore in dept for ancient documents of some kind; we were near enough. They would have liked to do that, but the caravan couldn't stall in one place -especially one so dangerous- for too long and risk getting behind schedule.

I tried to go alone, but as much as I knew how to fight, it was not my forte. The ruins are like a labyrinth, and the inside of the temple is dark and riddled with even more monsters. Sometimes I would simply stand by the entrance of the temple, too weary from just _trying_ to get there, and stare into the darkness and fear taking a wrong turn and suddenly finding myself in the Lich's chamber. That was a fight I could not have won.

Slowly, my research came to a halt. It'd happened to De Nam not too long ago, until he decided to observe how monsters interacted with miasma.

To tell the truth, the conclusions he drew from that worried me. It was logical, almost obvious. Miasma wasn't anything more than a poison, after all; ingesting small doses of it to become immune made sense. It was just… the water in Conall Curach- how it looks like it's mixed with oil, it's murkiness, the long algae and weeds that crawl from it, probably hiding Sahagins beneath…. It made me sick to think that anyone would drink that.

"It brings constant pain," read the letter. I could only imagine. But still…I didn't try to stop him. Sometimes I would begin to write a letter to tell him maybe it wasn't such a good idea, but they were all scrapped in the end. I can't explain what stopped me, if it was curiosity for his results, or if it simply was that I knew he would not stop at my -or anyone's- request.

He wouldn't have stopped… right?

Some months passed, and he wrote again. He was making it, he said; he was adapting, he was sure of it. For a moment I was glad I hadn't tried to intervene- I mean, what if he actually made it? What if he became the alchemist of the century, and got us all our freedom in the process?

However, that was only for a moment. As I read the letter, there was a feeling in the back of my mind, a pressure on my chest… I knew I was dreading the outcome, because it would not be a good one.

It is terrible when one's fear becomes reality.

In his last letter, the handwriting was long and shaky, as if he had had trouble controlling his pulse. On top of that, the ink was smudged, making the message barely readable. But the fact of the matter is that I understood it, and what was written worried me the most.

He was asking me to go meet him.

I heeded his request immediately, and set out of Marr's Pass only a few moments after getting the letter. My mind was reeling. The trip to Conall Curach was so long; would I be able to make it in time? And that letter- he didn't even seem aware of his condition. Was he slowly dying without even noticing? Or did he know, and was that why he wanted me to go?

All I could do was pray that he held on, just- just until I got there. As I travelled as quickly as I could, I kept pressing my Cure ring against my finger, as if to remind myself it was still there.

By the time I reached Conall Curach, it'd been weeks since I got the letter, and yet I still clung to a small hope that he was at least alive.

The ash-colored grass extended before me, until it met the tall weeds at the far end, where I could barely see more than a grayish-purple mist. There was no sign of De Nam at the entrance of the road, so I had no option but to keep going forward. I hadn't gone there in many years, but at least the Hell Plants and Bombs didn't take me by surprise.

I called his name, I announced my presence, and sometimes I even tried to threaten him, yelling that I'd beat him up for making me go into that place. But those threats always fell and became some sort of begging. Just show me where you are, I'd nearly whine out.

Soon I reached the plank path. Fighting became more difficult because of the narrow space; I was throwing fira spells left and right to fend off the plants and the flans, and gravity spells to have a chance against the stone Sahagins. The monsters seemed especially vicious that day, and they were starting to weaken me. Maybe it was because I was becoming desperate or I was loosing my concentration, but my spells began to weaken, and I had to rely on brute force to make my way.

Then I saw it: a wooden shack built on pillars over the water, just a way from the planks. He _had_ to be there!

I began to run towards the shack, but a Gigan Toad crawled out of the weeds. It lashed at me with its long tongue and made me trip. I quickly recovered my footing and jumped out of the way of an ice spell, then managed to pull out a fira spell and set the monster's skin on fire. Once it recoiled back in pain, I ran towards it and began attacking. It tried to jab its tongue at me again, but I back-flipped out of the way and released another fire spell. It was overpowered, and the sorry bastard realized that a moment too late.

Into that last blow, I poured all my frustration. Before that last blow, though, I noticed the eyes of a monster for the first time. Fixed on me, the thing that would kill it the last thing it'd ever see. They showed such raw fear and incomprehension that my mind went blank as I brought the racket down on its head.

I felt something crush, then I pulled the racket back, and it was over.

The body lumped down heavily and laid on its side. I noticed there was something odd stuck on the mud on its paw- a piece of cloth. Don't pick that up, I told myself; forget it and go help De Nam. I tried to walk towards the shack, but a chill ran down my spine and I stopped dead. Wh-why did I recognize that piece of cloth, dirty and torn as it was?

Because it was a bandana, that much I could see. And I didn't want to pick it up, but my body went towards it on its own accord, and with shaking hands, took it. There was dried blood on it, tears on it. The name De Nam sewed on an edge.

My mind went blank. I think I kneeled there for a moment, just looking at the bandana, a scream of anger building up inside me until I finally let it go. I seem to remember another Gigan Toad appearing around a corner, me yelling a threat to destroy each and every single one of those beasts, and a perfect firaga spell.

But that's all I remember. Next thing I know, I'm outside the marsh, camping besides the river and trying to wash the mud off the bandana.

.

I went back home afterwards. On the way there I kept wondering why it was that I was so affected by De Nam's death. Were we even friends? Or were we just colleagues of some sort? I guess it made me angry that I'd never have the opportunity to ask him- I'd never have the chance to ask him anything anymore; not about his research, not about how he was doing in general.

Once back in Leuda I had to explain to my family why I was in such low spirits. I told them the story since the day I met him, and showed them the letters. My father was stunned at the progress De Nam had made; at how close he'd come to explaining the nature of miasma itself, and the little observations he made about how miasma reacted with other substances.

The world has lost an amazing alchemist, he said.

My mother, however, was not so concerned about that. You've lost a friend, she told me; of course you're sad. And as much as I pretended that what my father had said was the thing I was most upset about, deep down I had to accept that I was sadder about the fact that I had lost _him-_ not De Nam the alchemist; just De Nam.

Before Gan Noo returned from a merchant trip, I sent a letter to Amidatty telling him about De Nam's death, just so that somebody else knew. When my brother came back, we both decided to take a break from the outside world and stay home for some good bunch of months. We'd have a newborn brother soon, so what better excuse?

During those months, I made a compilation of the things I had discovered, and the designs me and my father had made. I also made a copy of De Nam's discoveries as backup, but decided not to go too deep into them, not now.

One day a letter arrived from Shella. It was from someone I'd never met before, a Yuke girl called Adamanta. I thought the moogle had gotten the wrong address, but no, it said it on the envelope: To Nor Lit, Leuda.

First things first, she had recently heard of De Nam's death from Shella's caravan. She'd been worrying about not getting any mail from him for a long time now, but had just had the chance to confirm her fear.

She explained she had talked to De Nam during the time he had spent in Shella, and had become deeply interested in his research. She even dared to say that they had become friends, though she was not entirely sure. (At this point I wondered if that guy ever cared to clarify to people what kind of relationship he had with them). She dared because after he left, he kept sporadic correspondence with her.

Ultimately the caravan told her about me and the letter from him I'd showed them. She admitted she was a little jealous; she thought she was the only one De Nam kept communication with. Regardless, she wanted to talk to me about him, just to remember him with someone who understood. The caravan had tried to locate De Nam's family, but they had had no luck. So she begged me to respond.

I complied, and that began a long chain of correspondence between us. De Nam's letters to her contained very shallow information about his research, but he had taken the space to tell her about different things that he also considered important. Mostly, about the legend of a princess and a demon who both ate memories. The princess turned the memories into myrrh; the demon turned it into monsters. Apparently he was very fond of that legend. He had showed a much kinder and down to earth side of him to Adamanta.

In turn, I told her about my experiences with him; how I now wished to be not just an alchemist, but an _excellent_ alchemist because of him.

Soon I was back to researching the old tomes I had at my house, and delving deeper into De Nam's research. I wasn't trying to improve it, I was simply trying to complement it; prove it if possible.

For me and Adamanta, nothing was actually clear. If he had considered us friends or not, we'd never know, but at least we knew he had had some degree of care. He'd told her little tidbits about his life, and to me he had confided his discoveries.

At last I decided to end my 'vacations' and go back to on-the-field research, making it a priority to go to Shella and meet Adamanta face to fa- helmet. Then we'd show Amidatty the things De Nam had left us, but we'd keep a copy for ourselves. It was not something that could be thrown on somebody else and be forgotten. It was ours to keep; we were determined to make the best of it, and keep De Nam's memory alive in the process.

My baby brother was almost a year old by then.

xXx

Shella was in an uproar after miasma disappeared. When celebrations finally died down, the scholars and researchers began to run back and forth between chronicles and reports, trying to figure out just _what_had happened. The most popular theory was that it had been a natural phenomenon; something had given in, something had run out.

Adamanta once commented that she didn't agree with these theories. She believed that somewhere out there in the world, there was an unsung hero that had done us all a great favor. Or that at least, the answer lay in the people.

Meanwhile, I'm also trying to solve the mystery. Yes, the miasma stream beyond Rebena plains is taking a peculiarly long time to clear off, but that only leaves _the rest of the world_to find answers.

All it has come to now for me is some evidence that tells me the one-man caravan of Tipa has something very important to tell. Just a hunch.

* * *

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	2. Letters About Them

**Listen, and let the people tell their tales.**

**Listen, and let the story-tellers weave their magic.**

**Listen, and let the stories be told.**

**Letters about them**

The journey by ship from Leuda to Port Tipa takes roughly four days, not accounting for bad weather or other inconveniences. From the port, it's another day by foot until one finally reaches the village of Tipa.

On the ship that arrived at the port that evening there were only three passengers: two Lilty travellers that were returning from the Kilanda isles with their bags full of ores, and a Selkie from Leuda who had spent the last day of the journey sleeping on his hammock.

The bell that signalled their arrival rang, waking him up with a start. The Lilty men chuckled at his clumsy attempts of getting down the hammock without tripping, but they ended up having to ask for help to carry their many bags. The Selkie picked up his own small rucksack and fastened a red bandana on his head before helping them.

Outside, the last of the sun's light was fading, and there was a slight chill in the air. On the shore near the rock wall and the beginning of the up-hill trail there was a large tent, which was where the Lilties signalled the Selkie to put the bags.

"Now, don't think about running off without paying, Nor!" Tristan, the Lilty captain, called from the deck to the Selkie, who was already on the shore and in a convenient spot to make a run for the road. Nor Lit glanced back and grinned cheekily.

Under Tristan's careful watch, the three passengers carried bag after bag to the tent until they were finally done. Having finished helping the other two, Nor Lit returned and paid fifty gil, which surprised Tristan.

"You know, I charge extra for the tent. You're not staying the night?"

"Nope." the Selkie grinned. "I want to get to Tipa as soon as possible, and by daylight, preferably. Why do you think I spent the whole day sleeping?"

Tristan shrugged. "Because you're weird, perhaps. Either way it's not my business, so just be careful out there." He pointed in the general direction of the cliff with his thumb, turning to go back to the steering wheel.

The Selkie patted the racket that hung from his waist and bid the captain farewell. He stopped by the tent to light a lantern, and then was on his way up the trail and onto the main road. Tristan caught a glimpse of him as he went out of sight, farther south, and only saw the orange light of the lantern bobbing in the distance as if it was a spectre floating away into the night.

Nor walked at a fast, steady pace. The air was fresh, and smelled of wet grass; probably a light spring rain that had fallen not so long ago.

The trail climbed up a hill and then forked to the north and to the south. The south route was one of the few roads Nor was less familiar with, but he remembered how it ran through a ridge of mountains and hills and that at some point it passed along the edge of a cliff from where River Belle was visible below. When he reached that place, well past midnight then, he couldn't see the river, as it was hidden by a canopy of trees and darkness, but he could hear it and know he was half way up to Tipa.

Next, the road curved away from the river and it was close to the ocean again. Still high in the mountains, the wind blew strong and from there he could see the forest extend to the shore, where the moonlight reflected on the crashing waves. The road stayed like that for most of the way, until it curved inwardly again, where it met the forgotten, closed off entrance to river Belle Path. That was the only moment he was wary, but luckily he didn't encounter any goblins on the main road. At one moment a large figure flew before the moon, but it dived back into the forest and never showed up again.

It would only take three more hours to reach the village after that point, but Nor's eyelids felt heavy as he walked, and his head dropped to the side every once in a while. Deciding not to embarrass himself by falling asleep the moment he reached Tipa, he stopped walking before dawn broke and searched for a good tree to climb and sleep on for a while. He'd reach Tipa in the afternoon; he needed to rest now.

xXx

"One day, this Moogle comes flying from the desert, no?" His father told Nor Lit, as he and some of his father's friends gathered around their dining table. "Turns out the guy had been injured during a fight with the Antlion, and is lying in the myrrh tree's chamber in the brink of death. We had to help him, 'cause, y'know, he's one guy and has nobody to fall back on."

As the sky outside darkened, the light of the lanterns hanging on the walls strengthened. The wind howled, and the sound of the waves rang strong, vaguely reminding Nor that his mother was outside, watching over his baby brother as he played near the sea.

"There was a bit of an argument, though, remember?" interrupted Li Seth, an old man who had been a caravanner during Nor's father's youth. "'Cause it would be pretty damn dangerous, even with me in the search party," his friends booed him for his cockiness, but he continued undeterred. "So a bunch of people said to let the guy there; not like Tipa's doomed, just send a letter to the village and they churn out a replacement."

"…Harsh." was Nor's only comment.

"But then this foreign girl steps up and gives those people a piece of her mind and then sends out this _Lilty_ soldier out to lead the way, so those of us with, you know, a _heart_, set out for the guy and get him back."

"And boy was he injured! I mean, every caravanner comes roughed up from the desert, but this was something else," a man named Mel Dah commented. "You treated him, didn't you, Zeh Gatt?" He said, speaking to Nor's father.

The man nodded gravely, scratching his beard. "We were pretty amazed at the fact he had survived at all, but we guessed he had had the chance to use at least some cure spells in time." Zeh Gatt said before taking a long gulp of ale.

"So he stayed here, in the village?" Nor asked.

"Yes, for a while, at the elder's tent. The princess took care of him too."

"…The what?"

"Yeah, the princess," Li Seth laughed, "Turns out that foreign girl was the princess. You know, from Alfitaria?"

"Dow Hatty hasn't been the same since she left." Said Mel Dah, shaking his head in pity.

"Anyways, how was he like? Was there anything, ah, peculiar you noticed?" Nor Lit asked after a moment, looking at his father specifically.

"I don't know, he was unconscious most of the time," Zeh Gatt shrugged. "Got a fever and everything, and when he was finally cured, he had to hurry out."

"Caravanner's duty." Li Seth concluded solemnly, and began telling one of his own caravan stories.

.

Stories about Tipa's caravan were few and far between. Sure, every merchant had their tales, and other caravans would always talk and compare to the other caravans they met on the road, but all around, the Clavat man seemed to be one of the least outstanding caravanners. Fum's caravan had described him as a Clavat to the bone, which did nothing to make him look any more exciting. Still, when asked, one Lilty caravanner from Marr's Pass had made it clear that the man liked being a caravanner, despite his peaceful attitude, and that he was good at it.

Those Lilties seemed to be fond of him, but when Nor asked Amidatty, the Yuke huffed and looked away in indignation, quickly changing the subject, so there had gone Nor Lit's most reliable source of information.

But caravan stories were not the reason Nor Lit had taken a sudden interest in Tipa's caravan.

After the end of the era of miasma, and after the celebrations died down, he had set out for answers again, just like every other scholar in the world. Unlike every other scholar, though, he had Adamanta.

"You know, Nor," the Yuke girl said one day they had been in Shella's library, going through old tomes in search for somewhere to start. "Nobody's asked the caravanners."

"Hmm?" His sight didn't leave the book he was going through.

"Nobody has asked the people who were more concerned with miasma. I mean-" she paused and stared at her friend, until he finally noticed and put the book down to pay attention to her. "They may not be the wisest or scientific people, but they're…they were always there, you know, in the middle of it all. Do you understand?"

"I think I do, yeah. But Amidatty was a caravanner, and everybody is swarming around him and asking to their hearts content," he almost went back to reading the book, but Adamanta leaned in closer.

"True, but Amidatty is not the only one," She was almost laughing, and so close Nor Lit thought he could see the eyes behind the mask. "Nor, I've been thinking about it so much; I've told you before, haven't I?- that it's worth listening to other caravans' tales. Don't you think they might say something they don't realize is important? Someone could compile accounts, even. You could be the first one to do it!"

After a pause, Nor Lit smirked. "No, you _want_ me to be."

She finally backed away, folding her large, strange hands on her lap and looking away. "True." She admitted in resignation. Nor couldn't help but laugh.

It wasn't a bad idea, and after some thought he agreed, to Adamanta's delight. They weren't getting anywhere researching old books or learning about geology, anyways. Unluckily for the Yuke girl, she was still too young, so she had to stay behind.

Since Alfitaria was closest, he started there, but his efforts to contact the former caravanners came to nothing. Most of them worked in the castle now, while at least one had moved away. Interviewing the elder was out of the question, since the elder was, well… the king. The trip to Alfitaria wasn't all a waste, though. As Nor Lit was about to head out, he met with an old friend: the merchant Gi Lubeh.

A man now entering old age, Gi Lubeh was still the most active merchant around. He bragged that most caravanners had depended on him for crafting materials and trading, and about how this paid very well. Nor Lit himself had run errands for him when he was short on money.

Another thing he bragged about was his knowledge of the comings and goings of about nearly everyone. Big cities, small towns, roadside camps; he'd sold something at every place at some point, and most of the time he'd lingered long enough to learn a little piece of information. The man told the best stories around Leuda's campfires.

The two Selkies headed out of Alfitaria in Gi Lubeh's caravan, since they were both headed to Marr's Pass. When Nor Lit told him about his plans, Gi Lubeh insisted that Nor Lit skipped the Pass and go directly to Fum. In one of his recent travels, he'd heard the town's Elder talking about something that happened a few weeks after the day miasma disappeared: one caravan had passed through Fum, coming from Rebena Plains- the last caravan on the road, apparently, since nobody had seen it since the beginning of the year.

"He thought the caravan was just stalled- maybe it hadn't even realized miasma was gone," Gi Lubeh said over a campfire near the road, the embers between him and Nor Lit casting a mysterious light on the man's face. "But two things were weird about it: their chalice was empty; yet," he paused for effect, "It had been the first one to go through Fum that year.

"Still nobody thinks anything's off about that. But I remember- I remember what you told me once: that there are _things_ beyond Rebena plains. Secrets, guarded by miasma. And I wonder, how right you were…and who else knew."

xXx

From across the bridge, the miller and her daughter stopped working to watch as the stranger entered their village. Other people did the same, while others either ignored him or stopped to politely welcome Nor Lit to Tipa.

The town was abuzz with preparations for what he knew was the crystal festival. Every town and city still remembered the day their caravan returned, except now they didn't have to see it depart again. Leuda's festival had happened a few days ago, with all the flare and extravaganza one would expect from a town full of Selkies, and he had heard Alfitaria's festival was actually a great ball at the castle. It seemed that these new festivals had even more joy to them than the old ones, maybe because they weren't brief reunions and goodbye parties any more, solemn in the fact that if people didn't celebrate them, they would die. Now they were, in a way, celebrations of memories, of survival, and life.

In Tipa there were colorful decorations hanging from the tree branches, the lanterns and torches were already set, chimes hung over every door and flower ornaments were place along the street. The festival would be in a day and a half.

In the town square, around their crystal, a group of people were putting up pole lines with triangle shaped flags on them, and others were joining small tables together to make one big banquet table. A Lilty family of blacksmiths were preparing pots and pans and setting chairs in front of their house. An old Clavat lady stood by the crystal as she supervised the preparations. Just who he needed, and he hadn't even had to look too much for her. He approached the woman, tapping her on the shoulder and bowing as he introduced himself.

"My, a visitor," she said, smiling and taking a good look at the much taller man before her. "You're early for the festival. Come, follow me."

Her name was Malayde, the Elder's wife, and she'd take him to see her husband. In small towns it was considered polite to meet the Elder first and state one's purpose of visit. Their house was the one right behind the crystal and the largest one in town. She guided him up a flight of stairs outside the house, explaining that Roland was taking a break from all the stress of preparing the festival.

Indeed, the old Clavat man was sitting comfortably on a chair near a window, reading. The room was full of shelves replete with books thick and thin, and mystical artifacts that didn't work anymore and just served as decoration. On the right side of the room there was the kitchen. A kettle was set on the stove, quietly puffing up vapor.

Roland lifted his sight when he heard the door open, and closed the book with a loud thud.

"This is Nor Lit, from Leuda." Malayde said as her husband stood up to greet the Selkie. Both men bowed to each other. He had to be one of the oldest Clavats Nor Lit had seen, and tiredness showed in his eyes. Yet his posture -straight, dignified- and his voice showed no trace of being burdened by weariness and time.

"Our most sincere welcome. Leuda is a far away place to come from just to enjoy our festival, especially for a stranger," the man noted, tilting his head to the side. "Am I mistaken, or do you have other business here?"

He's sharp, Nor Lit thought. "I'm an alchemist, Sir; a researcher. I'm conducting an investigation on the disappearance of miasma, and I'm collecting accounts from the last caravans on the road."

"So you wish to speak to ours," Roland said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes, if it's possible."

The old Clavat closed his eyes, considered it for a second, and nodded. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at his wife, who was laughing softly.

"Arion is going to be so happy," she said cheerily before turning and exiting the room.

Nor Lit looked quizzically at the elder, who was also stifling a laugh. Then he cleared his throat and clarified, "Arion is Toto's father. Nobody's paid much attention to our former caravanner, but Arion has always been proud of his son. Malayde's gone to fetch him, so come sit for a moment."

Although nervousness was beginning to creep up on him, Nor Lit followed the man to the window, where there was a stool close to the larger chair. He sat there and watched as the Clavat went to fetch the kettle and make some tea. As he waited, a question began troubling him, making him bite his lip in confusion, until he finally blurted it out:

"Toto?" he asked, his voice maybe a pitch higher than usual. That was _not_ the name he had heard, and now he worried that he'd searched for the wrong person somehow.

Roland laughed loudly this time, the teacups he carried shaking dangerously. "Yes, Toto. His name is Thomas, but that name has been all but forgotten. Nobody minds- he doesn't mind; it's just the way it's always been." He put the cups on the windowsill and sat down on his chair, from where he observed the Selkie in front of him a little more.

Nor Lit thought about apologizing, but he chose to choke his embarrassment with a large gulp of tea- the hotness of the liquid be damned.

"Anyways, a Selkie alchemist is not something you see everyday," Roland commented.

"We're few, but we do exist," Nor shrugged, relieved that the elder wasn't offended. "Everyone in my family is an alchemist, for example."

Some minutes passed during which they just talked. Roland asked for news from the other towns and cities, and seemed to be genuinely interested in the investigations about the disappearance of miasma. But like most conversations about that topic often did, it turned into anecdote telling, and the Elder had many. So Nor listened, because apparently he was a good listener. Adamanta had said it so.

"It's freeing," he said, looking contemplatively out the window. "I saw many caravans come and go, but now I see the children of my village and don't have to worry about which one of them is going to be the next child we'll send into peril. Which one of them is going to carry the burden of our lives on their backs. Now," he smiled then, gesturing with his hand towards the window and the scenery beyond, where behind the trees a part of the sea and the horizon could be seen. "Now the world is theirs; all of it, not just the parts under the shadow of the crystal."

For a moment, Nor Lit thought about his baby brother, and he couldn't help but smile too. Then he thought about someone else, and his smile faded. The shadow of the crystal indeed.

"Now tell me," Roland spoke again, snapping Nor out of his thoughts. "Is it really important, to us, as people, to figure out the mystery of miasma?"

Nor Lit locked his gaze with the man's, unsure of what he meant, but his features showed nothing more than true curiosity. "Well… if we figure this out, then maybe we could prevent future tragedies," he stammered for a simple answer, but then decided to be sincere. "But for me it's personal."

Roland accepted the answer with a nod. There was a knock on the door, and the old man went to answer, muttering, "That must be him," on the way. Nor Lit stood up, clutching the strap of his rucksack tightly.

The door opened to reveal another Clavat man, much younger than Roland but still in the third age. Judging by that, Nor Lit knew he wasn't Thomas. But the man had such a broad, enthusiastic smile on his face that it wasn't a stretch to imagine he was his father; he introduced himself as Arion, too, which helped

Introductions were made, and instead of bowing like usual Arion shook Nor Lit's hand eagerly and without warning and asked him to follow him- he'd get him to Toto, once he figured out where the ex-caravanner was.

They stepped out of the house and down the road, all the while Arion asking questions and talking about the festival that was to come. Nor Lit listened only in parts, and answered briefly when it was needed, but his mind was elsewhere.

He'd spent the last few months preparing for this, even if he knew it might all come to nothing. He'd been close to the site of the 'Swell', as people now called the explosion-like event that preceded the disappearance of miasma; he'd seen the ring of light stretch from horizon to horizon- he'd breathed that first gasp of fresh air. It was hard to imagine a mere human could have done that- whatever it was that had been done, if there had been something to be done at all.

Maybe in the end it was just a natural phenomenon as everyone supposed. But Nor had this little set of clues that lead to this one person, and in the vow he'd unconsciously taken -to look for answers his own way- he was following them, more a hunch than complete conviction in the end result.

The afternoon was warm and the village was filled with the noise of the people working, the smell of burning wood… and the sound of the sea. It was faint, far below, but it reminded Nor Lit of home. He felt a little more at ease.

Arion guided him past a shop and the farm, to a house off the road, next to the river. Its roof was covered with grass and in front of it there were magicite-powered tin refrigerators and an old cow grazing peacefully. On the other side of the river there was another house, modest looking, built in a small space between the shore and a rock wall. There was a sewing wheel on the narrow front yard, and large pieces of fabric hung from the windows.

Arion signalled him to wait a moment as he approached the bridge between the house, then he called, "Korina!" and waited. He called the woman's name again until finally a window opened on the upper floor and a Clavat woman with shoulder-length blonde hair peered through. She cupped her hand to her ear so as to hear better and Arion continued, "Where's Toto?"

She lowered her hand, threw a glance towards Nor Lit, and for the shortest of seconds glared at him. Before the Selkie could be sure of it, though, she'd turned her attention back to Arion and answered, "Up the river; where you were yesterday, I think."

"Thanks!" Arion said as Korina closed the window and retreated back into the house without so much of a second glance. He turned to Nor Lit and asked, "Do you want to wait here while I bring him, or are you up for a little trip up river?"

Nor Lit smiled and nodded, pointing in the direction of the river, so Arion signalled him to follow again. They rounded the house to go into a rocky trail along the shore. It was a narrow, tricky path (at least for Arion. Nor Lit breezed over the rocks and gaps with ease.), but it was fresher there than in the village; the wind rustled the trees, and the clean smell of the river filled the air. Arion briefly commented that before, they wouldn't have been able to get that far out.

Finally, they turned a corner and arrived at a large natural pool.

You could normally tell if somebody had been a caravanner: they always seemed out of place even in the most mundane of situations. Maybe it was the scars, or the haunted looks on those who'd seen the worst of it, or simply the inability to adapt to common, everyday life after all those long years of living in a world that did not forgive.

Thomas was there, sitting on a canoe while fishing, looking more like a ghost than merely haunted. There was a scar on his bare back that ran from his right shoulder to his side, twisting and knotting skin as it went- an ugly reminder of a fight with the Antlion, no doubt. He still wore several magicite rings, probably more out of habit than of need, and the headband on his forehead had runes for quicker spell casting inscribed on it.

The Clavat looked up when his father called him, and there was another scar on the corner of his lip that got stretched out when he smiled.

"Get over here!" Arion said cheerfully. "This is Nor Lit; he wants to talk to you."

Thomas nodded, taking a moment to observe the Selkie curiously. "Wait a second," he said. He put the fishing rod away and began rowing towards the shore. Once there, he threw a rope to Arion, who with the help of Nor Lit pulled the canoe the rest of the way.

"Hello," Thomas said, clumsily stepping out of the canoe. He whipped his hands on the sides of his pants before casually extending one to Nor Lit, who shook it awkwardly. "I don't- Um, it's been a while since we got any visitors."

"I didn't mean to bother! I should've sent a letter, now that I think about it," Nor Lit began, but Arion and Thomas quickly reassured him it was ok. "The thing is, I'm interviewing former caravanners-"

"He's an alchemist," Arion piped in. His son signalled him to calm down.

"To gather information about the disappearance of miasma. I figured that since Tipa's festival is approaching, it'd be convenient for you."

Thomas nodded. "Yeah, that seems about right."

"Nothing formal, I swear," he continued, "Mostly I'm focusing on the time prior and after the end of the era miasma, but anything that you noticed along your journey could help. I heard you were close to the site of the Swell when it happened-"

Thomas' eyes widened ever so slightly, as if telling Nor Lit to shut up before he said anything else he shouldn't. Or maybe just in anticipation of Arion's surprised exclamation.

"Hey, you didn't tell us that!"

Thomas paused, unblinking, then turned and said, "I…I got stalled; nothing important. Hey, dad, why don't you take the boat back to the house?" He quickly changed the subject, grabbing the rope from the floor and handing it to his father. "Don't let the catch spoil."

"But-"

"C'mon, it'll be late by the time I'm done. I mean," he turned hastily to Nor. "If you don't mind staying here…"

"I came all the way here," Nor shrugged. "It's calmer than in the village, no?"

"Exactly. So…dad," he held the rope up to his father, who begrudgingly took it and hopped on the boat.

"Ok, fine, just because your mother will get mad if she thinks I'm goofing off. Again." Arion grumbled, but there was still a smile on his face as he threw Thomas' shirt to him before pushing the boat away from the shore and beginning to row back.

Nor Lit stifled a laugh; Thomas' shirt had hit him square on the face, and he had to fumble with it to get it off and back on himself. He waited, setting his rucksack down and sitting on a rock. It took a moment for Thomas to turn around and face him, his hands balled into fists as he swung them slightly by his sides.

"I'm not a scientist," he spoke. "My job was to slay monsters and gather myrrh. Survive. I-I don't think I can be of much help to you."

"I think you can." Nor Lit said simply, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've spoken with nearly all the other caravanners, and other people about it- about the disappearance of miasma. And let me tell you, it is not- I haven't been asking questions so much as listening, because each and every one of them has a million stories to tell. And it's not about the questions I or any other researcher has, it's about the answers people have."

He paused to gather about his wits, wondering if Thomas had the patience to hear him through. He looked up to see the Clavat had crossed his arms over his chest, and standing, he loomed over Nor Lit, casting a long shadow over him. The light from above obscured his features.

"Go on." Thomas said. If Nor Lit squinted, he could see the other bore a curious frown, waiting for the Selkie to finish.

Nor sighed and stood, running a hand over the bandana on his head. "On-the-field research is impossible right know. Even though we know where the Swell occurred, the miasma stream beyond Rebena plains still hasn't cleared," he looked back slightly as if one could see the stream from there. "So we have nothing left to do but to turn to books and scriptures to try and figure out what could have caused it. What brought miasma into this world, and if it died or ran out, or what existed before miasma came that…suddenly came back or something. Look, we don't know."

That was a laugh for both of them. "So you guessed that somebody out there had the answer." Thomas said.

"Nah, I didn't. I've always kept to the laws of nature and such…" he cleared his throat. "A third party suggested I collect these accounts from caravanners, and I think in the end it bore results. You see, some of the information I collected mentioned you. At first glance it's not much, but when you add it up there's something curious about it."

"…How come?" The smile was off Thomas' face, slowly replaced by a completely serious look that Nor Lit wasn't sure meant incomprehension as much as caution.

The Selkie looked away again. Now came the part he had been nervous about all this time. "It's weird, coming here to do this, but to be frank I do have a question for you." It was definitely not a passive expression that on the Clavat's face, and the mood was beginning to feel heavier. Or maybe it was just Nor Lit's idea. "Let me explain first,"

The Clavat nodded sceptically. Nor Lit began. "I know you were the last caravan to pass through Fum; the Elder and a lot of people confirmed it. What makes it curious is that you were also the first. Now, I was with Shella's caravan the day the Swell happened, and had been travelling with them, so I know they'd claimed the myrrh from Daemon's Court, and that the tree in Selepation Cave was, according to their records, dry since the year before. Meaning, you had gone into Rebena Plains." He paused. "If what you wanted was to gather myrrh. But your chalice was empty when you came back."

"Listen, I-" Thomas' began suddenly, but Nor Lit interrupted him.

"Please, let me finish. You'll understand why I'm saying all this crazy talk that way," Nor Lit said, thinking the Clavat had every right to be annoyed. But why couldn't Clavats look angry when they should? It would make things easier if they didn't always hide behind a mask of calmness. "That year, neither I nor Shella's caravan made it past the fields of Fum, but my village's caravan did; we crossed paths near Daemon's Court, around…two weeks after you had passed, if my math is right. So I wrote to Dah Yis about the last drops of myrrh they'd collected- the chalice is in our Elder's tent, and it's still two thirds filled; I remembered that, and asked him, and he confirmed that they'd gotten the drops from Conall Curach and Rebena Te Ra."

"I can explain."

"They didn't see you," Nor Lit's tone was almost accusing. "You should have been there, should have already taken a drop of myrrh from either of the trees. In two weeks you can cross the plains and come back again."

But Thomas was shaking his head, looking down and biting his lower lip. Coldly, Nor Lit observed he was pale.

"You think I did something?" Still, his voice was calm, if a little shaky. "I saved the world?" He said it tentatively, as if trying to get used to the idea. "That's too much- I was just a caravanner. I got stalled, that's all. My-my papaopamus got hurt; I got off the road until it healed."

Nor Lit remained silent, thinking a way to get around that excuse, listening to the rustle of the leaves… to the lapping of the water on the rocks.

"I met a preacher on the shore." He finally spoke, suddenly recalling a memory that was not his own. In one of his letters, De Nam had explained to Adamanta how he'd come upon the legend of the princess and the memory-devouring demon: early on his travels, he met a preacher on the Jegon River's shore. "He spoke of two beings that fed on the memories of people. During the age of peace, a princess nibbled on the memories of mortals to keep herself satisfied, and it didn't hurt us, because we're bound to forget things- we have to. But the demon, he feasted on tragedy, on sad memories, and the miasma helped in creating them.

"…So the miasma carries that sadness, and only strong memories can keep it at bay. And he said, if somebody _remembered_ how to awaken the Desert Flower, they could conquer miasma. Legends, I thought," Legends, De Nam had thought. "But Gi Lubeh once told a story about a swindler who tried to pay for goods with verses about the desert, about a rose…. And then the model of the world Amidatty had- got it from the swindler who was always being helped…by a lonely caravanner."

He spoke as the words came flooding in, the memories forming together in that order for the first time. How could he not have seen it before?

Thomas was stunned into silence, a look of surprise and -Nor Lit was sure of it- worry on his face. His shoulders slumped, and he avoided Nor Lit's eyes.

"You're wrong. I do not know how to get through that miasma stream." The Clavat closed his eyes, refusing to look anywhere anymore.

And Nor Lit sighed. At that moment, he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders; he'd found his answer, he knew, even if Thomas refused to admit it. _Because_ he refused to admit it. So Nor Lit smiled, and Thomas found it strange.

The rest of the day was spent in relative calmness. Nor Lit dropped the subject for the time being, and continued his interview in the way the others had gone. Thomas never truly relaxed, and even if Nor Lit avoided making questions that would seem like he was trying to get evidence, Thomas was cautious with what he told.

It was a lifetime of experience, though, and the Clavat had many stories to tell regardless of what he was leaving out. Stories about his family, about his wife, about other caravanners; it turned out it was he the one who'd taken a bite out of Amidatty's 'model of the world', and upon this revelation Nor Lit cracked up. Then Thomas described the Yukes' reactions and Nor nearly laughed himself to death.

Any other tribe, or any other person, even, would have thrown Nor Lit on the street the moment he put them in such an uncomfortable situation. But Thomas' mood lightened up considerably as they talked, so much that in the end it didn't look like he begrudged the Selkie at all. He was even kind enough to offer a spare room in his house for Nor to stay the night. This surprised Nor, but he accepted nonetheless- considering he hadn't thought about where he'd lodge.

By the end of the day, he was laying on a hammock hung in an oddly empty room, drifting into sleep. With his arms behind his head, he reflected on the events of the day and the things he had found: a string of memories that lead to a possible explanation about how someone could get through the miasma stream in the plains, and most importantly, _who_ may have done it. Thomas could have all sorts of suspicions about a random stranger who suddenly showed up to throw wild accusations at him, but Nor Lit found him just as mysterious.

Secrets could be hidden by all sorts of things. Big secrets normally had large barriers protecting them, but this one- this one was hidden by a Clavat who was willing to let the one person who knew he wasn't telling something into his house. Thomas kept to the edges- of the village, of the people; he'd said as much himself, and he'd shrugged, not sure why he did that. Nor Lit fancied he knew why.

…So maybe, just maybe, this barrier wants to be broken? Nor thought fleetingly, seconds before he finally fell asleep.


	3. The Last Letter

**When you're a caravanner, there are a lot of people who you could save. But first you have to save yourself.**

**The Last Letter**

The morning was cold and misty. The fog hung over the top of the trees, lingered between their trunks and blanketed the rest of the town, obscuring its shapes and rendering it colorless. Dawn had barely broken.

Thomas stood at the edge of the river, observing the scenery. With the fog, the quiet and the stillness, the town looked a lot like Tida.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Korina approaching him. She held a coat for him in one hand, and a lantern in the other; its light cleared the mist around her as she moved. She stood besides him. Thomas gave her a brief, small smile, and then after throwing one last look at the village, set to work loading the fishing box and the rod into the canoe.

They usually worked in silence- they were already used to this routine, even after only a year, but this morning would be different. Korina took a deep breath and kneeled besides her husband, holding the lantern over both their heads.

"You're too kind," she said coldly. Thomas stopped tying the hook to the line to look at her.

"Don't think I didn't notice. You're uncomfortable with this…stranger. You didn't have to offer him a place to stay." She'd known, she'd just known that Selkie meant trouble for Thomas the moment she saw him.

"He would have done the same thing for me," Thomas responded and hastily returned to his work.

"How do you even _know_?"

"Selkies can't deny a person who asks for a place to stay. It has something to do with being nomadic, I think." He shrugged and closed the lid and lock on the fishing box.

"But Toto, the dreams!" She exclaimed exasperatedly. "You hadn't had one like that in months! Those things were supposed to be over, and remembering those times won't-"

"Neither will forgetting them," Thomas interrupted with a rare firmness in his voice, a strange lapse in his usually calm manners. He noticed this, and turned to put the box underneath the seat, trying to make himself busy.

Korina simply watched him, holding her breath as she shivered from the cold. He was evading the subject, but she was too worried to get angry. He might try to deny it, try not to worry her, but after he had talked with that Selkie, something had gone off.

Last night before going to sleep Thomas sat by the window, looking out to the town- to the crystal, she knew- and softly running his thumb over the blizzard ring on his finger. His arm was unconsciously positioned over his chest in a way that mimicked holding up a shield, and his mind simply wasn't in the present. Then after a fitful sleep he woke up with a start, and again his mind was slow to come back to reality. He bolted up, standing besides the bed, as he gasped for breath and clutched the side of his chest; then, once he managed to choke the pain back, he became wary, holding up an imaginary shield again and defiantly looking at his surroundings.

Slowly, he realized there was no threat in the darkness, and then he finally noticed Korina watching him worriedly. His anger and apparent pain faded immediately, and his expression softened to a point where it seemed like he was apologizing silently.

Without a word, she had placed a hand on his neck and brought him closer, forgiving something she didn't understand. She could ask, but he would hesitate before answering, finally settling for saying the name of some random monster he'd dreamt about. And in that hesitation, she knew he was not telling the truth.

It had always been like that. During the first few months of living together, every other day he would wake up in the middle of the night, still immersed in a dream, aggressive and defensive. He had explained to her that it was more like reliving a memory; the sounds, the smells, the feel of the sword's hilt in his hand- it felt like it was happening all over again. A few times he was aware it was not real, but mostly, he had no control over it.

At first she asked what it was that he remembered, once he'd calmed down. She knew she would never fully understand what it was like to be a caravanner, but if Thomas could at least relate these memories, maybe all those years of effort and hardship would weight less on him.

But from the very first time, there had been hesitation- No, the very first time he'd muttered, I can't tell you, and tried to reassure her he would be fine. It was the second time that he'd avoided her gaze and said something about a fight with the Zombie Dragon as an excuse. The poor bastard had always been a bad liar.

In time, the flashbacks subsided, until at last he could sleep through the night. They figured that it was because the memories slowly lost their freshness, and, though he insisted he would never forget, they became buried in his mind.

"Ko, it's no big deal," Thomas said, snapping Korina out of her thoughts. He untied the canoe from the shore and set a foot inside it, holding it in place. "I haven't heard much of the outside world in a while, is all. It's just story telling."

Holding his balance, he leaned forward and kissed her. To her surprise, she did not protest; she simply observed him sit down, handed him his coat, and watched as he rowed downriver, where no trail could follow.

There will always be something missing from your stories, Korina thought, frowning as she turned away to go back into the house.

Inside, she hung the lantern over the kitchen counter and began pulling out bread and some fruit, but stopped as she was reaching for the knife to cut a stripped apple.

It couldn't be just story telling, she reflected. Thomas never really had problems with telling stories, even after the flashbacks had subsided; if his little brother or any of the other kids wanted to know about monsters or about some adventure, he would gladly tell them. And now she realized it was because simple stories never went close to whatever it was that he was hiding.

She turned, looking up at the part of the ceiling where, on the other side, that Selkie still slept. She was unsure of how much to believe about him, but as far as Malayde had told her yesterday, he was sincere about his research; he _had_spoken with other caravanners, he really was collecting stories.

And it had made Thomas uneasy. With her breath catching in her throat, Korina realized the Selkie must have asked for the one story Thomas refused to tell. Even though he didn't know about the flashbacks and had just met the ex-caravanner, this stranger had asked the one question Korina had never been able to figure out.

xXx

Nor Lit's dream had been choppy and confusing, and had somehow left him more tired than rested. Adamanta's expectations, the investigations being held in Shella, his own findings- just how _close_ he was to an actual answer, yet how he couldn't figure out what to do to get it; all the things that weighed in his mind had presented themselves in his sleep, and made him feel heavy of mind and body.

Light was finally spilling in from the window, making the morning slightly warmer. Nor lay wide awake on his hammock, as he'd been for a while now, idly rocking it back and forth with one foot.

It was the day of the festival. Somehow, that seemed important to him. It felt like a deadline; if he didn't find something today, he wasn't sure when he'd have the opportunity again. He turned to look at the window, and seeing the light of the morning made him feel a little bit less heavy. The waiting was over- a new day meant another opportunity to talk to Thomas, and though he really didn't know what to say to get him to speak the truth, he figured that once he could talk face to face with the Clavat again, things would go from there.

More calmly than he felt, he got up and dressed before going down. As he descended the stairs, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for a long day.

But he only found Thomas' wife in the kitchen, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth. She looked pensive, with a hand supporting her elbow, and her fingers pressed against her lips. Nor Lit looked around, hoping, but there was only her in the room. He'd spoken very little with her yesterday, nothing beyond formalities, and even then he got the feeling she did not want him there. Nor had not been able to shake off that first glare she'd given him. His confidence waned a little, but he had no other option but to approach her.

When she noticed him she stopped pacing and observed him for a moment. He bowed first and said good morning.

Her fingers still over her lips and a cold stare on her eyes, she said, "Good morning." She turned to the counter, picked up a small plate full of grapes and a few slices of bread with butter and set it on the table. "I suppose you want breakfast." It was more a statement than a question.

Even if he didn't, he would not have been able to say no; she'd already gone through the trouble of fixing something for him. Running a hand over his bandana, he said, "Yes, of course. Thank you," and went to sit down. Before he began eating, he considered asking her if she'd eaten already or if she would like to join him, but when he looked up to her, she was leaning on the counter, peeling half a striped apple with a small knife.

They ate in silence for a while.

"He's gone fishing with his father, if you were wondering," Korina finally said, not bothering to look at him, before taking a bite off the apple.

"Ah…yes, I'd figured that."

"Won't be back for a while, either. The mom-" she glanced at him, and clarified, "My mother-in-law has to make a dish for the festival, so she's gonna need some decent sized fish today."

Somehow, Nor felt she knew this would upset him. He looked down at his plate, frowning slightly; it was only a small setback, but it meant he'd stay with the uncertainty of not knowing what to do for longer. "I will wait, then," he said, more to himself than to answer her. Still, he threw a glance at her to see her reaction, and their eyes met.

"What?"

"I didn't think this 'research' would take so long," Korina said, looking down at him with a frown, holding the apple besides her face. "I mean, I don't know much about that, but you two talked a lot yesterday. An interview is an interview, you know? I thought it was just to get as much information as you could."

And then scram, Nor Lit finished the sentence for her in his mind. Resting his forearms on the edge of the table (still holding a half-eaten slice of bread), he spoke, "I know I'm inconveniencing you, so I apologize if I've been too much trouble."

She shook her head slightly, and looked down. "I am serious. I'm no alchemist or scholar, but I know something's off when I see it."

"Then I can explain," he said more light-heartedly, biting back the guilt of having to lie to her.

And just as if she could read his mind, she gave a disbelieving smirk and stated, "It would be a lie."

Nor raised his eyebrows, surprised. The slice of bread dropped onto the plate.

"It would be a lie, just like he lied to you." With that, she put the apple away and went to sit at the table, leaning in to face Nor, who still looked dumbfounded. Even Korina, in all her apparent anger and determination, had to hold back a laugh. "You see?" she said, pointing at his face. "You failed to account for something: in the end, you're just a stranger, and I know Toto better than you. I don't know what exactly you're looking for, but whatever it is, it's not something he's willing to tell anybody. A secret you know he's hiding, and so you hide it too."

He was left without words. It was just too early and too sudden for this to be happening. Somehow, she was right; he had no idea how she'd figured it out, but she was right. Only partly, he quickly reasoned; she did not know what everything was about, just that there was some sort of secret. Maybe if he could exploit that, then….

"And… you were- you _are_ investigating about the disappearance of miasma…" She said slowly, her eyes widening as she made the connection. Her fingers went back to her lips suddenly, and she turned to look at Nor. "That's what it is about, isn't it? All this time, he's known something? _Did_ something?"

Just like that any possibility of Nor getting around this one crumbled. Bewildered, he realized that if he tried to deny her he would be doing the exact same thing Thomas had done to him. Worse, she held all the cards; she had not stated her evidence, so he didn't know what he could or shouldn't deny.

He sighed, running a hand over his bandana, quite stunned. He picked up his plate and went to put it in the tiled basin, taking his time before answering. Nobody else knew his suspicions about Tipa's ex-caravanner, or the real reason of his visit to Tipa- not even Adamanta. He had let everyone believe this was just another of the interviews; that way it was easier, nobody's hope would crash. But Korina's voice had a tinge of desperation to it, and when he turned to look at her, her eyes clearly showed she needed to know the answer.

"Yes." He said in a low, firm voice.

"Oh," she muttered, and to Nor's surprise, she slowly began to smile. Small and weak, but a smile nonetheless. A weigh seemed to be lifted off her, just like it'd been lifted off him yesterday when confirming the same thing.

Nor went to sit down again, and in a few minutes he found himself telling her everything: about the impenetrable miasma stream, what was supposed to lay beyond it, and how it concerned Thomas; about the swindler and his stories about the desert flower, about the preacher and his stories about the demon and the princess… and about De Nam. The memory of the other Selkie surfaced, and Nor couldn't help mentioning him.

Korina listened patiently as he told the story of his friend; what he had been, what he'd done. How unfair it was that people wouldn't remember him for what he had tried to do, but for how he'd died- a seemingly foolish and naïve Selkie, bound to fail just like everybody else who'd tried to do the same before him. How, in truth, Nor would never really know what became of De Nam- if he'd suffocated, or if a monster got him, or if he was lying at the bottom of the swamp along with the other Selkies who'd been there long before.

"In the end," Nor sighed before a small pause, trying to find the right words. "I'm doing this for him. To be able to say, Hey, here's where you went wrong. See? There _was_an answer. It just…it just wasn't yours."

By now, he was standing by the window, hidden in the shadows besides it. The day had cleared, the fog had dissipated. Noises of people going about in the town, putting in the last details for the festival, had been growing steadily for a while.

"…Because that happens often between alchemists, you know? Somebody else finds the answer you were looking for, and you don't get angry at them- you're happy that there is a solution at all, and that one more thing can be understood.

"So, Miss," he looked down. "I may not know the things you do, but I'm fairly sure I'm right about this one, and I need the answer too…"

He didn't blame her for keeping quiet for so long afterwards; it was a lot to take in, after all. And, he realized, he wouldn't have blamed her if she said no. He had told _his_ story, his own…but if every person who had lost someone to miasma came knocking at these Clavats' door demanding answers there would never be an end to it.

Finally, she asked, "How many did you tell?"

"Hmm?"

"How many people did you tell about him?"

"Nobody knows," he quickly reassured her. "It was by pure chance that I found out, and I didn't want to tell anyone before I got to confirm I was right or not."

She nodded, muttering, "Smart." After a pause, she added, a bit hopeful, "And he really didn't give you an answer?"

Nor Lit shook his head.

Korina was going to speak again, but at that moment someone called out her name from outside. She turned to the door, a bit startled, until she recognized Arion's voice.

Nor Lit frowned, confused; Korina had said Thomas would take longer. He followed Korina as she went to open the door, both of them wondering just how much time had really passed since breakfast.

Outside, Thomas was tying the canoes to the wooden posts on the shore while Arion approached the house. Judging by the position of the sun, it was somewhere around nine.

"Good morning," Arion greeted, especially to Nor Lit. "We ran out of time. Christie said we should get back by ten so she could have time to cook," his gaze then turned to Korina, expectantly. "So…"

"Nope," Korina said, "I don't have lunch ready. You caught me off guard."

Arion punched the air half-heartedly- hungry, but still satisfied by a job well done, judging by the smile on his face. "She did feed you, though?" he added, looking at Nor Lit, who nodded quickly. Arion gave a heavy sigh. "Well, we're going to unload the catch and get it home. Korina, if you could run over to the merchants and get the spices Christie needs, that would speed things along,"

But Korina wasn't listening. She stood by the doorframe, watching her husband, who had smiled at her for an instant while he tidied things up in the canoe. Arion didn't notice, but she'd been unable to smile back. The man by the river was someone new to her.

"I could go," Nor offered hurriedly, to get Arion's attention away from Korina. "If you tell me what you need, I'll get it for you."

"Really?"

"Eh?" Korina snapped out of her thoughts and looked from Arion to the Selkie, confused. Arion repeated what Nor had said, and Korina agreed, not really caring. So Arion dictated a list, and told Nor to bring it to his house.

Nor nodded, and left the Clavat family on their own for the time being. As he crossed the bridge, he glanced back briefly, in time to see Thomas divert his gaze away from him. Then the Clavat turned to see his wife going up to him. Nor gave himself a humorless smile as he looked away and kept walking. It was not his place to do anything now; he would leave for a while, and let Korina handle things- let Thomas handle things. The keeper of the secret had his own life too, after all.

xXx

The merchant's house was close by, practically in front of the entrance of the town. The shop was very busy. A lot of the townspeople were gathered there to buy new products that had been brought in during the morning by a small merchant caravan. Not only that, but the caravan had also brought many visitors and even other freelance peddlers looking to benefit from the large crowds festivals attracted, so those who did not have a relative's or a friend's house to stay in lounged around.

Even thought the festival would not start until the evening the town looked festive already, with the ceaseless sound of chatter and the occasional music filling the air. There was also the smell of food being cooked, and some kids were already playing around with fire-crackers.

But the fisherman's house remained away from all that, much calmer in its corner. It had been an hour when Nor Lit returned with his arms full of small boxes and glass bottles with red and green spices in them, to find there was nobody outside. The door of Arion's house was open, though, so Nor climbed up the stairs and went inside.

Only an older Clavat woman was there, mixing some kind of dough in a bowl over the counter. She glanced at Nor, smiling knowingly, and bowing slightly. Nor bowed politely.

"I believe we've not met, Nor Lit of Leuda." She said, returning her attention to the bowl. "But my husband spoke very enthusiastically about you and your little project. Put those on the table, would you."

Nor Lit complied. "Your name is Christie, right?"

"Correct."

"Nice to meet you," he bowed again. Christie's smile broadened.

"You don't have to be so formal. I hate that. Instead why don't you grab those garlic teeth and mince them for me?" She set the bowl down, and added a handful more of flour, while Nor Lit set to work close by on the counter. Christie informed him that Arion and their youngest son had gone into town, and that Korina and Thomas were back at their own house. Nor nodded in acknowledgement and didn't ask more.

When he didn't speak, Christie stopped working for a moment. "You're very patient," she commented offhand, and went to look for something in the cupboard on the corner. "If I was in your position, I would be going nuts."

"Not as patient as it seems, Mrs. I just let things go sometimes." Nor chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Patient was the last thing he was; merely thinking about the festival made his stomach churn with nervousness.

Then he repeated what she said in his mind, and backtracked. "My position?" He turned to look at her and found her still smiling, although less broadly, as if in resignation.

"Somebody, someday, had to find out."

Nor chopped one last bit of garlic before turning all his attention to the Clavat, staring. "You know too?"

Christie nodded solemnly. "But my son kept it a secret, so I told nobody else. But from the moment Arion told me you were here, what you wanted to do, I knew the time was up." She returned to the counter and continued to work as she spoke.

In the last few years of his term as a caravanner, Christie had watched her son carry a burden that got heavier and heavier as time passed. She had no idea what it could be, and Thomas never spoke about it. Even Korina, who could also see something was off, hadn't been told anything. So the years passed, and both women figured that battle fatigue was setting in on Thomas, as it did to many caravanners.

But one day, a few weeks before miasma disappeared, a letter arrived for Christie. As she recounted this to Nor Lit, her voice became steely and she sometimes blinked too quickly.

"The letter began by telling me that he may not come back. That should the middle of the year go by without him returning, I should tell Roland and ask him to give the order to flee to Marr's Pass. He wrote that he could not tell me why he would not return. I could have gotten confused, or even angry, but I kept on reading. He wrote about being a caravanner; about life on the road and in battle, and how, after all that, the one thing that had remained with him all those years was the love for his family." She paused briefly, and clarified, "Of course he meant Korina too; they weren't married at that time, but we always considered her a part of the family."

"Yes, I figured," Nor said, smiling faintly to make her feel a bit more calm.

She chuckled and rubbed her eye. "Anyways…he kept saying that in the end, he was doing this for us, never writing what 'this' was. But whatever it was, it would mean that neither his sister nor his brother would have to enter a caravan and put their life in danger, and that his father would be able to look for a fishing spot freely. The whole thing was like an apology, and it left me incredibly worried and sad," her voice had begun to crack, despite her best efforts to keep herself in check. "Of course I didn't understand why my son was saying goodbye. I couldn't tell anyone else either, because he'd written that there was no turning back, so what could I do, if I didn't even know what it was all about?"

Gulping, Nor quickly reached out for a clean cloth, and handed it to the woman so she could wipe away the tears that had escaped. He felt incredibly awkward. And incredibly grateful.

"Then miasma disappeared?" He ventured, putting a hand on Christie's shoulder.

She nodded, breathing more easily thanks to the memory. "Before the middle of the year, yes. I understood immediately, of course, but I couldn't believe it, so I told no one. He still had to return; I couldn't cheer just yet.

"And when he did return, he never even mentioned the letter." She sighed, whipping her nose and looking at Nor Lit with a sad smile.

"So you kept it a secret." Nor finished, trying to convey understanding in his voice even if he didn't completely feel it. A few minutes passed, during which Christie clumsily reassumed her work, gathering the garlic and asking Nor Lit to slice some tomatoes. She excused the inconvenience; normally her daughter helped, but she was about to get married, so she was spending time with her fiancé's family.

After giving the Clavat some time to calm down, Nor said, "But there is something I don't understand," he paused, his gaze fixated on a point beyond the window. "How can somebody be that…modest?" It was not the word he was looking for, but he couldn't think of any other. How else could he describe someone who'd set out to do something so _big_ and yet told no one? That was the thing that Nor had first found strange in Adamanta's musings, and why he'd never let himself think the clues he got lead to the truth. If it had been somebody, how come no one had heard of this person?

Christie closed her eyes. "Can you really not tell?"

Nor shook his head.

She took a deep breath. "It is not about modesty, Nor Lit; it is about fear. If he said anything…who would believe him? And if they believed him, how could he ever go back to being himself?"

Afterwards there was only silence for a very long time.

"I think…I think I can see it now." Nor was leaning against the counter, lost in thought.

Christie smiled weakly. "You see?" Then, after a pause, "That's why I gave her the letter."

Nor turned to look at her quizzically. "Who?"

"Korina. I showed her the last letter when she told me about your conversation. I know she'll understand- I know she knows he needs to see his family cares about him for who he is, not just for what he did. That he's not bound only to his memories, but to the future too. They're back at their house, as I said; they're probably discussing that."

And Nor couldn't help himself. "Thank you." He knew she was not doing this for him, that it was solely to help her son and that to her, _he_ was the person who'd helped the process along- the missing piece to get the truth at last.

Christie told him he could go; he wasn't obliged to help her at all. But Nor preferred to stay.

xXx

The fireworks exploded in a rain of red, gold and purple against the night sky, the sparks falling to the sea bellow. In the town square, the music started playing.

Several violins, flutes and drums picked up a fast tune, as the most enthusiastic people pulled their partners and friends to dance around the Crystal's still shining light. Those who weren't dancing were either eating or drinking in circles of people, chatting away and telling stories. Some children were running around with fire crackers, while in a corner two young Yukes were putting on a magic show surrounded by the smaller kids. Roland and Malayde sat at the foot of the stairs of their home, watching over the festival and exchanging comments between themselves and a few other seniors.

Nor Lit was standing besides Christie, helping her serve food from the buffet table to others when a round of applause suddenly broke among the crowd. They turned to see a Yuke man exit the alchemist's house and join the festival.

"That's Louvouz," Christie leaned over to Nor, explaining. "He was the caravanner before Toto. Good friend of his, too."

Many people offered Louvouz a place to sit with them, but he declined and instead walked over to the front of the Blacksmith's house, where he sat besides the Lilty owner to talk and watch the festival from a distance.

The same thing happened when, from the other side of the town, Thomas finally arrived. Korina walked besides him, holding his hand tightly. Besides them, oblivious, were Arion and his youngest son, a boy no more than ten years old. The little kid ran away to go be with his friends, while a small group of people approached the family to speak to them, giving pats on the back to both the father and the son. Thomas seemed relaxed, but he was distant- his answers were short, and he was searching with his sight for something among the crowd.

He finally spotted Nor Lit. The Selkie exchanged a look with Christie, who gave him a reassuring smile, and watched with anticipation as Thomas separated from Korina and approached them. He calmly ignored everyone who tried to talk to him until he was in front of his mother and the Selkie. Up close, he looked tired. Thomas pointed over to the Blacksmith's house, and said to Nor, "I usually stay over there. We- er, I would like you to join me. I think I owe you something."

Nor Lit nodded. Thomas turned to his mother, about to ask her to accompany him too, but she calmly explained that she didn't need to know the what and the how; she was happy just _knowing_. Anything more would only stress her. So, reluctantly, Thomas left with Nor Lit.

"You don't _really_ owe me anything," Nor said as they walked, his sight stuck to the floor, thumbs hooked on his belt. "You're not bound to me in any way."

"Actually, I do. Korina told me about De Nam." Thomas stated, looking straight ahead. Nor Lit stopped in his tracks. "I understood then, why you're really doing this: You want to know what it is that I did, why I survived, when De Nam couldn't."

It was the truth, Nor Lit had to admit. A bitter truth, Thomas commented, as he looked from Nor and then up to the sky, where the fireworks didn't stop. "It's something that I've thought about all this past year, and even years before. Because, really, what made _me_ more worthy of survival than De Nam? Or the Black Knight, or Hurdy? We all tried to do the same thing, and I was no alchemist, no legendary warrior, no dreamer.

"So I want to tell you what happened. There are…a lot of people like De Nam who I owe the truth to." Thomas let out a heavy sight and turned to look at the blacksmith's house, where Korina had joined the Lilty and the Yuke. It was a small nook, exclusive from the rest of the lively, loud festival. Without another word, Thomas and Nor walked towards it, and casually sat in the circle of friends.

Don't tell my father, don't tell my siblings, Thomas warned; they didn't suspect anything, and they didn't need to know. It would only worry them. But all four people in the circle at the moment were aware Thomas had been hiding something for a long time. Louvouz knew how it was to be a lone caravanner, Korina knew about the dreams, Mateo had forged the weapons, and Nor Lit had found the evidence. It felt right to tell this small group of people; they would keep the secret.

The night was cool. The crystal light outshined the stars, even though it had received no Myrrh in over a year, and the people danced and told tales and lived all around it. It looked just the same as years before, but oh, it had changed. The air itself had changed.

The music was relentless as Thomas closed his eyes, took a deep, soft breath, and began to speak.

Writing this chapter was like pulling a tooth for several consecutive days. Right until the last part with Christie. If I had known Christie would be so easy to write, I would have written her scene and, like, two more and that was it. There are, I kid you not, about seven different word documents with alternative versions of this chapter. But in the end I'm not entirely displeased with it; it's kind of slow, but I feel it was needed to explain a lot of things.

I think this may go for two more chapters, or the next chapter and a little epilogue, depending on the next's length.

Reviews are love. Spread them.


	4. Letters from Across the Divide pt 1

**It is never foolish to hope.**

**Letters from Across the Divide  
Part 1**

At the entrance of Mount Vellenge, I tried to remember every event that had lead to that moment. In my mind there was a jumble of memories that tried to come forth as the most important, the one that had pushed me in that direction. One of them finally claimed the title, and I bitterly realized which one it was:

Gurdy.

The sky that extended before me was gray; the clouds were stretched thin by the wind and had tinge of sick green in the horizon. The earth was warm, and there was a strange sensation that ran up from it and onto me every once in a while… like a pulse from a giant beating heart, coming from the center of the place, the bottom of the crater. Ashes fell from the sky like snow, making me shiver despite the fact that it wasn't cold.

It all began three years after the start of my journey. I must have been… 17. Only 17. I don't remember much about that time; I was still trying to get my footing as a caravanner, and cautious to do it right, because it meant everything to me. At best, I remember myself as a skinny, quiet boy who had to get used to a completely new life very quickly, and whose only real strength was in fighting.

So much time had passed since then I couldn't begin to understand how I had gone from being that simple caravanner to a person standing at the edge of the world, ready to try and rid it of miasma. All those chance meetings on the road had been just that- chance. So how had they turned into _this_?

There were so many things I wanted to remember, so many people that seemed so much more important, but that first random encounter with _him_ was the turning point.

It started with a verse, too. It was almost funny, it almost made me want to laugh, but in front of me there were labyrinthine pathways with monsters lurking around every corner, and the emptiest place on earth behind me. Laughing would have been nice, sure, but the weight of my decision laid too heavily on me to try and muster a smile. This could be the end of everything.

But I wasn't afraid. I had to do this. The alternative was turning around and returning to the world I knew, to being a caravanner and continuing the rest of my days knowing I could have done _something_ to change things, but didn't. I couldn't have lived with that. And even though the idea of leaving my family -or worse, forgetting I ever had one at all- wretched my heart, I never thought about backing down.

Down the path, a Quimera turned a corner, coming into view. Its tentacle sniffed at the ground idly, too far away to notice me. I turned to look at Mog, my moogle companion who carried the chalice besides me. With one long look at him, I told him this was his last chance to turn away; I understood if he didn't want to continue from here. But even moogles have a sense of grandeur, I guess, because he replied with a grin: "Are you joking? There's no other place I should be than here."

And with that I lifted my shield in front of me and we charged forward.

xXx

It was a day like any other. I had just collected my first drop of myrrh of the year from River Belle and my next destination was the mountains of Kutliema, where strange fires had begun to appear during the night and I worried that the monsters in Goblin Wall were becoming active again. I figured that I could go and get rid of them before they caused too much trouble for the village.

The caravan creaked along the road and Mog was snoozing off besides me when we came upon a strange sight. Marr's Pass caravan had stopped to a side of the road and all three Lilties were standing before a Clavat man dressed in a bright red tunic and strange hat. Rolf Wood was yelling at him, stomping his foot on the ground with a murderous look on his face. The other two looked equally angry.

The problem seemed to be that the Clavat had been hitchhiking with the caravan and had annoyed them to no end with his tall tales. I didn't see anything wrong with story-telling, but his non-chalant tone and cocky attitude were pretty jarring.

Not even when they started threatening to leave the man stranded did he seem to take them seriously, and that was when _I_ started worrying. The Lilties were perfectly capable of leaving him behind, and he just thought they were joking! I got off from the caravan's seat and asked what was going on just as the other Clavat tried to start telling another story, something about treasure hidden in the desert. But Rolf was having none of it, and ended the conversation by getting on the caravan along with the others as I quickly offered to help the stranded man.

With one last warning from Rolf telling me not to believe a word the man said, we were left alone. He introduced himself as Gurdy.

Ironically enough, I took him to Marr's Pass. It would be easier for him to find someone to travel there than in Tipa, and I'd just have to go to the Mushroom forest when I turned back to make up for lost time.

Gurdy spent most of the time telling stories; I began to see what had bothered the Lilties so much. The tales were pretty tall, and would have been entertaining if it wasn't because you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not- he had a trickster's face, something you just felt: this guy has something up his sleeve. But by the end of our short time together he had caused no harm. As a thank you for the ride he recited a verse to me. Then he turned without looking back, and as I watched him go into the town, I realized that that verse was the only truly sincere thing he had said in all that time.

"Thunder brings the cactus pain. Now it all begins again."

I didn't pay much attention to the incident itself, but I never forgot that verse. Even years later it would echo in my head. Especially the last part.

.

The thing that you have to understand about this…story is that its pieces are disjointed and scattered through time. It began with things like that first verse: apparently unimportant details, dangerously easy to forget.

The Black Knight had nothing to do with me, for example. During those years he was just a rumor going around the Liltian towns and caravans that I heard from Sol Ratch from time to time. The leader of the Alfitarian caravan seemed to- no, _had_ a deep admiration for the fellow, who supposedly was on a journey to become the greatest warrior in the world. I listened to Sol's stories with mild interest and noted down the most curious bits of information in my journal: a few lines about his exploits, and my faint curiosity as to why he did what he did.

I thought of these rumors as something that didn't concern me, something too far away, but a time later I had to acknowledge that the Black Knight was actually much closer than I though: he attacked Marr's Pass caravan and I stumbled upon the aftermath. In truth they had challenged him to a friendly sparring match, (You know, to see how good a warrior he actually is! Leuts explained as she rubbed the bruises on her arm), but he had acted like a berserker, without any kind of discipline or mercy towards his opponents. With a shudder, Rolf noted that the man had fought to kill.

Sol was outraged. The image of the noble warrior was shattered, tarnished! That was an insult to him, so he stopped fooling around with rumors and tried to dig out the truth. He told me his findings one afternoon when we met at a crossroads near Alfitaria. This time I listened with a bit more interest as he explained that, despite his efforts, the man remained an enigma. There was very little known about him. His past and even his real name were a mystery, and in fact he had disappeared for some years after heading into the swamp with a Clavat preacher, as they investigated something about miasma. Only a few years back did he appear on the road again.

The moment Sol told me this, I snapped around to look at him, eyes wide and mind running as fast as it could. What did you say? I even asked, and he repeated that last part, confused by my reaction. But I couldn't explain, not yet, when realization was only beginning to dawn on me.

.

You see, before the beginning of my second year as a caravanner the Elder of the village took me aside to talk to me before I set off. He tried asking how I was holding up, but what could I say? It's hard to explain how it is to be a caravanner, and I was just beginning. It's something you just do- you learn that it's better not to think too much about it, because that would just weight you down. And really, he wasn't the person I wanted to confide in anyways.

After not getting much answers from me he started telling a short story about -as he said- a young fool who had tried to rid the world of miasma. He wouldn't have called the man a fool if I had answered his first question, but I listened to the story without interrupting; I wanted to know how it ended, although it was obvious. The Elder said it best: today, nobody knew what became of the boy, while miasma remained.

It was a cautionary tale, then: we're all bound by fate, and deviating from it could only hurt you.

The next day I was back on the road and with more important things to worry about, but the tale left me with an uneasiness that was hard to ignore. Even though the message Roland had tried to convey was well meaning, it left me a little…sad. If you deviate from your destiny, you end up dead. Miasma couldn't be beaten, and everybody who tried to do it was a fool. Was what Roland said really my destiny? Everybody's destiny? Being worried all our lives because we can't try to give ourselves hope of getting rid of miasma?

I had a lot of time to think this over, so at the start of the next year I asked Roland to tell me the rest of the story. Inside his house, he pulled out a wad of letters bound with a string from deep within a shelf and handed them to me. It hadn't occurred to me that the story might not be real, but it still surprised me when I saw those yellowed, crinkled letters. Without pause I opened one and began to read.

Most of what was written were pieces of life on the road and personal thoughts- how the boy sometimes took on preaching to earn some money, and how this had led him to meet a knight who shared his vision of a world without miasma, so they'd partnered up to work towards that goal.

His longest letters, though, spoke about their discoveries: about a legendary fifth element that ruled over the other four- the tales around it, the theories that had been going around for centuries, how true these may be, and how this element was the key to ridding the world of miasma.

So immersed I was in these theories -even if I didn't understand a good part of them- that Roland snatched the letters away before I could finish reading them all. Quickly gathering them and putting them back on the shelf, he glanced at me and warned in a weary voice that those were the only things he had left of the boy, so I shouldn't be getting any ideas.

But all I could really think about was that those two must have been ambitious people, brave enough just to try.

The world was harsh when you weren't under the protection of the crystal. Caravanners knew this better than anyone else. Even if you train for years, the first real battle will always take you by surprise; the first swing of the enemy's sword throws you off balance and either breaks you or makes you plant your feet on the ground, put your shield forward and _go_.

In between all that fighting and danger, though, there was the world. I wanted to become a caravanner because I wanted to see it; go beyond the bridge, over the hill and see the land stretch to the horizon. It's a harsh life, but it's not a bad one.

Those two still had more freedom than me, though. Even if I was used to my life, being a caravanner was still a heavy burden. Most of us learned to live without too much stress, but that weight never, ever leaves you. I took one look at Tida and the mere idea that that place had once been alive -and worse, that _name_, so alike my village's own- was enough to make me feel sick. Even to this day, there are skeletons inside some houses. Those may be the remains of the few people who died without regrets, because all the resentment and despair created a lot of monsters that roam the abandoned streets today; most caravanners would rather not think about _who_ those skeletons we have to fight used to be.

And that could be my town, those could be my people.

That scholar and that knight would never have to worry about that- about coming back. They didn't have to carry the lives of other people on their shoulders; at worst, they could die without regrets.

…So I guessed that yes, my fate was bound to Tipa; to return to them, and to keep on fighting as best as I could. Those ambitious endeavours, that quest to rid the world of miasma, would have to be left to others.

.

I didn't know what to make of it when I figured out that the Black Knight was one of the men from the tale, or why this realization shook me up so much. But it had to be him; how many knights partner up with Clavats and try to save the world? To think that that day when I found Marrs' caravan all beaten up, I had been only a walking distance from him. If I had known I could have run, caught up to him and asked him about all those things I had wondered about for years.

But the best I could do at that moment was ask Sol. I told him about the preacher's side of the story, and about what little I could read about the time he'd spent with the Black Knight. He'd been the voice of reason most of the time, when the preacher's theories got too wild; a knowledgeable man who really did believe in his goal. The preacher wrote that the knight once told him that history had a trend of labelling those who really dared to 'save the world' as foolish, even though a free world was what everyone wished for. But petty name calling wasn't going to stop the knight; there was no glory or fame for him by doing this- you save the world because you can.

Hearing this made Sol a little uncomfortable- I know he would have called the knight foolish if he'd known his true intentions. Well, look at him now, he muttered. Quickly he cleared his throat and asked me if the preacher had written to Roland recently.

What a weird question, right? The preacher was dead; how could he write?

But Sol tilted his head. Why, he'd spoken to the preacher during his investigation. The people Sol had asked referred him to the Clavat, claiming he was the same who they remembered seeing travelling with the Knight. Though the preacher _had_ denied knowing the Black Knight, Sol had gotten the impression he simply didn't want to be associated with him anymore.

When I got the chance to tell this to Roland, he didn't believe it. He said that, yes, sometimes he heard about a preacher going around helping people in need, but Roland always chalked that up to mere coincidence; it couldn't be the same person. There was a reason for this, but he wouldn't say it.

I did try to search for the preacher, or at least hoped to find him some day, but that never happened.

.

The next year I met with Gurdy again. The last time I'd seen him he mentioned that we would probably never see each other again, but even then I didn't believe him.

This time he was in trouble with another caravan: Sheula, from Fum's, was close to punching him in the face because he had fumbled a delivery job she'd hired him to do. I reached them just in time for him to ask me to loan him one thousand -one freakin' thousand!- gil so he could refund Sheula. I helped him, so Sheula left with my money, and Gurdy and I were left alone. As thanks, he recited another verse. And, really, I never expected him to repay me.

"Of crumbled inn few reminiscence. Its faulty beams will not be missed."

I think it was about another year before we met again.

He just got sneakier and sneakier every time. I had taken him for a fool and a bit spacey if the incident with Sheula counted, but never for a swindler! Though in retrospect, I should have seen it coming. This is also the moment when my problems with Shella's caravan started, but that's another story.

That day Gurdy sold them a loaf of bannock for five thousand gil- of course, he didn't sell it _as_ a loaf of bannock, but as a scale model of the world. I had been camping close by the crossroads where they were, and stumbled upon the scene when Mog and I were returning from a well up the road.

And I _tried_ to tell Amidatty that what he was buying was actually something you could get much cheaper in about every other food stand anywhere, but every time I tried to speak either he or Gurdy told me to shut up. In the end I could do nothing but watch as Shella's caravan marched away, merrily carrying their newfound model of the world and five thousand gil short. Mog and I exchanged bewildered looks before Gurdy turned to us and scolded us for interrupting his sale.

That wasn't a sale, Gurdy, I admonished, but he didn't pay attention. Instead, he started to pace around me, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. When I asked what was wrong he simply said that, though one should never judge a book by its cover, I was as readable as they come.

Well, he was one to talk.

He stared at me, but then he smiled and agreed. Dangerous types tend to flaunt it, he said; like poisonous plants who sport vibrant colors. Then he outstretched his arms and, laughing, said, Look at me! Everything about me is a warning!

But the truly dangerous never reveal themselves, he continued, his gaze stuck on me and an all-knowing glint in his eyes; the most innocuous façade almost always conceals the most vicious enemy.

There was a pause, and then Mog burst into laughter. I was just unsure of what was going on. Gurdy changed the subject, and that was the end of that.

"Lonely mushroom bursts to flame. In the land that quick-sands claim." Was the verse he recited this time. Apparently he wrote those things himself.

I don't think Gurdy had a home. He didn't strike me as the kind of guy who had one place to go back to, or old friends to greet and spend time with. Instead he travelled the roads, not staying in one place for too long and with no destination ahead. That's the way I saw him: as a part of the road that I would find every once in a while- at a crossroads, at a bridge, maybe at an inn, but getting ready to leave because he could never stay in one place for too long. He reminded me a bit of the Black Knight in that way; they both moved forward, never looking back.

Speaking of which, I did encounter the Black Knight.

It was twilight, somewhere near Daemon's Court. I was wounded and weak from a trip to Conall Curach, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with some wayward monster, but up the road came the sound of an armored creature moving, and the swishing of a blade in the air. It was too dark to see what it was. Not wanting to drive the whole caravan straight into danger, I stopped the papaopamus and got off with sword and shield in hand to scout out ahead. Mog followed with the chalice.

But the figure we saw from behind the trees was not that of any monster we knew; its movements were erratic and mindless, but it was too small, its shape too…. That's a Lilty, I realized; if the height and shape didn't give it away, then the spear did. He was a fairly large Lilty, fully clad in an elaborate, dark armor.

Stepping out of the hiding spot, I called out to the person. It was strange- no regular traveller would be this far out, so close to the Court and the swamp without a damn good reason.

He didn't listen; he just kept swinging the spear wildly at the air, at a spot that was too high for him to reach. When I called again, the spear changed direction and swung so close that I automatically lifted my shield and the tip of the spear nicked it.

Why-you! Stop eating my memories! He yelled, coming closer to me, then turned and ran looking around desperately, attacking the air still.

Mog wanted to get out of there; that man was crazy and who knew what he would do. A madman? I thought, and then it hit me: that was the Black Knight.

Without even realizing it I was running after him, calling after him again. We were both chasing something at that moment, but he lost his target first and kneeled on the ground, defeated, as I caught up. My tongue was tied; I didn't know where to begin. Finally he noticed me besides him, and looked up to my face. Don't look at me like that, he said, his voice as defeated as his body.

I found my voice, and the barrage of questions I had thought up so long ago finally came out. Him, the preacher and the swamp and the fifth element- what had happened? What had they found? How far did they get? Did he remember enough or did he not care anymore? Why did they separate?

All he did was shake his head violently. Without a word, he stood up to his full height and I shut up. Remember? He asked, and repeated it punctuating his words by hitting the end of the spear on the ground. I remember nothing, he continued; what I loved, what I hated- nothing at all. In the end I saw a light, and then all was dark. That's all I _remember_, boy.

The Black Knight turned around and began to walk away. I didn't dare to follow, but he stopped for a moment and spoke again: Someday I will reclaim my memories from that light. It's not over yet. Then he marched away.

I'm not completely hollow, I heard him say before he faded away into the darkness.

.

Realization crept up on me slowly that night. For hours I sat by the campfire, thinking and talking with Mog about what had just happened and what it meant. The Knight's memories had been stolen; it was bizarre, but he'd said as much. I had imagined some melodramatic fight between him and the preacher as the reason of their separation- irreconcilable differences between their ideals, the burden becoming too heavy, reaching a dead end they couldn't break through. But now, knowing the truth, it seemed to be something completely different.

I remember the chill that ran down my spine at that moment. It was weird, but what if not only the Black Knight lost his memories? I couldn't fathom what had caused it, but it put what Sol Ratch had told me about the preacher in a different perspective: When he told Sol that he had never traveled with the Knight, it did not mean he was refusing to acknowledge it. He just didn't remember.

And that could also be the reason why he never wrote back to Roland.

So, what happened?

As far as I knew, common diseases did not work the way I'd seen in the Black Knight, and an accident wouldn't have caused the same effect on two different people. The Knight had mentioned something about a light- the last thing he remembered, and apparently the thing he was chasing. That had to be it, but I'd never heard about something like that before. I could have asked someone- maybe Sol, maybe Roland, or hell, even Amidatty for all it was worth- but the wind that blew at that moment went westward, and in the distance I saw the thick miasma stream I had come from a few hours before, swirling slowly, almost peacefully up there in the hills. The last anyone had seen the preacher and the knight together, they had been in the swamp and about to head deeper still.

Wasn't there another miasma stream in Rebena plains? On the other side, further west, that no one could get through because no element had ever matched that of the stream? And…wasn't the preacher investigating about a fifth element, said to rule above all others?

That same night I went back west. I know I wasn't thinking clearly at that time, but some way I had to know what laid in the west that the preacher and the Black Knight had found- because they had found _something_, even if they'd been left the worse for it.

There used to be a forest west of Rebena Te Ra, probably a very long time ago. Now the land is barren, and all you can see are the skeletons of the trees standing with their bare branches outstretched to the always cloudy sky. The silence in that place is oppressing. Not an animal, not a monster stirs there.

After days we finally reached the place where miasma thickened to the point it seemed solid: the edge of the miasma stream. I told Mog to wait in the caravan and took the chalice alone- maybe I'd get lucky somehow and manage to cross through. I didn't really believe that, but there was no harm in trying; for all their omniscience, miasma streams only push you back if the element in the chalice doesn't match.

From the get-go it was hard to move forward. The place was definitely different from any other stream. There was a golden tinge to the miasma and all around me there was this…illusion of movement- not just the usual swirling of the miasma, but something more solid, as if I could see a distorted reflection of myself in the distance or to my sides.

As I got closer to the point where miasma would start to push back I began to notice something else in the reflections ahead. At first I thought it was just another illusion, part of the tendrils of miasma that had begun to appear in front of me. But that wasn't it. A figure was becoming clearer and clearer, until I could finally see it whole amidst the fog.

I didn't have time to be scared. The discord between the elements finally became too strong and the miasma shoved me back, hard. I stood my ground, planting my feet on the ground and leaning forward to try and keep moving, never taking my eyes off that creature. It was huge, three times the size of a normal person. A pair of thick horns grew out of its head, arched and then intertwined at the tip, where they held something I couldn't discern- I was staring at its eyes. Large orange eyes with black slits for pupils, fixed on me.

I was struggling more and more each second, barely able to think clearly. That isn't a monster, was all I could think at the moment our eyes met.

Then it turned around and ran. I yelled after it, shifting the chalice to one arm and stretching out a hand to try to stop it. My feet skidded back with every step, but I pushed forward with all my strength. It was useless in the end: the creature crossed through a mirror barrier I hadn't noticed and disappeared behind it. I extended my arm as far as I could, trying to find something- anything to hold on to.

I got so close my fingertips almost touched the barrier. Then I saw my reflection, and my knees buckled. I fell forward, holding onto the chalice for dear life as miasma dragged me through the dirt, back to where I belonged.

.

I was sure of two things afterwards: one, the fifth element that the preacher wrote so much about might be able to cross that miasma stream, which was why he and the Black Knight had gone into the swamp. In turn, this meant that the element itself was not _the_ thing that could save the world, but merely a tool that would get them closer to the real answer- the other side of the stream. Which lead me to two: that creature was sentient. I noticed it the moment our eyes met, even though I couldn't register it fully. But that thing had been looking at me with curiosity- amazement, even; same as I must have been looking at it. There was a strange…understanding there, though it came to me too late.

Did that thing have anything to do with what the preacher and the Knight had been looking for? There was no way I could know, but the answer felt so close- just beyond that mirror wall. There was a way to cross that, though. Could I find it?

Should I?

When I saw my own reflection inside that stream, I lost all my strength. It was a bigger shock than encountering the creature. Seeing myself like that brought reality crashing down on me. I just thought… holy shit, what am I doing? Why am I thinking of saving the world? I can't do that; it's too foolish!

Whatever was beyond the stream in Rebena plains was just a 'maybe'. Maybe there was something there that concerned miasma, and maybe I could fix it. Or maybe there were just more questions there, not the solution, and I would only end up knee-deep in a never ending problem that I really didn't have the means to solve. Maybe I didn't have the means to do anything at all and the effort would only get me killed.

Because for everything I could figure out, I was still a caravanner. I _had_ to return to Tipa.

.

I spent that year's festival alone in my house. All through the journey back I repeated the things that had happened over and over in my head. I had hoped that returning home would calm me down, but getting through the rejuvenation ceremony took what little patience I had left, so I made an excuse and retired.

The noise and the crowd felt oppressive even from afar. The festival was supposed to be fun, a time to let go and celebrate and be grateful, and normally it was- but that year it just made me feel hopeless. Nobody expected something better than this; nobody was hoping that the next year would be different and that they wouldn't have to depend on the return of their caravan so they could continue living. Sure, everyone wished for something like that, but no one really believed it would happen. A world without miasma was just a nice fantasy, and while we dreamed about it we'd go on living under the shadow of the crystal.

This was stupid. I should have felt this frustration years ago when Roland first told me about the preacher and I understood why he was right, not now that I had had so much time to get used to the idea that nothing would change, and much less that I could do it. I hadn't become a caravanner to try to rid the world of miasma. Somewhere down the line, I must've forgotten that. For a moment, I was too busy actually believing the answer was close.

Before the festival was over my mother came by the house. With her she brought Samuel, my youngest brother, who was 4 years old at that time. It had gotten too late and too loud for him at the town square, so she'd decided it was time for him to go to bed. While he dozed off in her arms she asked me to take care of him so she could go back to help at the festival, but when she tried to hand him to me he clung to her shirt and buried his face against her neck.

He's being shy, she tried to clarify while I stood there and watched her tell Samuel that there was nothing to be afraid of; that guy standing there was just his brother.

I couldn't blame him; this was to be expected- you could count the days he'd seen me and understood who I was in one hand. It still made me feel worse. In the end my mother put him to bed herself and offered to stay with me, but I told her she should go.

Next year he'll understand things better, she tried to reassure me before leaving.

Yeah, she was right. As he grew up, Samuel would come to understand that the mere air outside the village could kill him, and that a few people risking their lives year-round were the only thing keeping miasma away from towns all over the world. And then he would accept it, and patiently wait for my return, and then I would join him in waiting for the next caravanner, year in, year out. It had been so long since I waited for someone else that now the idea of doing it again, even in the distant future, filled me with anger.

Some days later I asked Roland to let me see the letters from the scholar one last time. He must have worried I was planning on following the preacher's steps, but he complied after some hesitation. At that time, though, I just wanted to understand the preacher a little more. In a sense, the person who had written those letters was dead, and these were the only records of what he had tried to do.

He never returned, you know? Roland muttered after I'd been reading the letters for several minutes. The silence that followed only lasted seconds -though it felt longer- during which he just stared at one of the letters in his hand.

Roland then handed me the only letter he'd been holding onto that whole time, and when he explained, it wasn't as a warning or a tale; for once he was speaking because he wanted to, because he needed to.

That last letter came from Mag Mell. It had come after long months of no news, and when Roland received it, he knew it would be the last one. Mag Mell, he explained, was a place of legend- a legend that had been lost long ago and that remained only in the memory of a few men and in the pages of decayed tomes. No map had ever marked where the place was. Its inhabitants were immortal beings said to have lived since the beginning of time, and that was why the preacher had set out to search for the place: there had been a time when there was no miasma, so it could be these creatures knew what had happened, and maybe they'd be willing to tell him how to fix it.

When he got the letter, Roland, for an instant, had been hopeful that the boy might actually succeed; he'd gotten to Mag Mell, hadn't he? He would not joke about something like that. Perhaps soon people would wake up to a world with breathable air and be able to go beyond the outlines of the towns and live and prosper. Perhaps the boy would return with his warrior friend and say to Roland, I told you so, and Roland wouldn't have minded that at all.

But the days passed and nothing happened. Mag Mell was a place out of this world; the moment he got that letter, Roland knew the preacher didn't belong to the world anymore either. So as time passed, he learned to live with his disappointment, and with not knowing what had truly happened to his friend.

What was the boy's name? I asked after a long silence. He had been strangely secretive; he never specified locations or names, and he didn't sign any of the letters.

Hurdy, Roland answered, and it was like someone punched me on the chest. That name was incredibly familiar.

.

The first thing that happened that year was the death of the Black Knight.

It happened right there in the middle of a main crossroad, a big brawl between him and Alfitaria's caravan- there were civilians there, and the caravan had to protect them. While one of the soldiers kept the people back the other three fought to push the Black Knight away. The man was relentless, fighting with all his strength to push through his opponents; whatever he was trying to attack was right among the civilians.

There were so many people, so much yelling. I was running to help at the same time one of the guys from Fum's rushed from the other side of the crossroad, and we'd almost gotten there when the Black Knight managed to knock out the Alfitarian soldiers in quick succession and dash for the people. A woman screamed louder than everyone else and someone yelled 'For my father!' and then everything stopped.

The person holding the spear that killed the Black Knight was not a soldier. It was just a Lilty boy, gripping the spear and breathing heavily through flared nostrils, the Black Knight's spear only inches to the side of his face. His mother rushed to his side just as the Knight began to mumble something. We all heard it; the name Leon being said in a shuddery breath, followed by another name, Jona. The boy's mother's eyes widened in shock. The last thing the Black Knight said before dying was that he finally remembered.

Some understood what had happened, others didn't, but that didn't stop a suffocating silence from falling over the scene. Everything looked like it had frozen, and when it finally started to move again everything went twice as fast- except for the woman. The boy- Leon was taken away, the other people were pushed back, and Sol Ratch warned everyone that if someone told that boy what he'd really done, they would be left by the road. Jona kneeled besides the dead man and slowly took off his helmet.

There was a funeral that lasted the time it took to dig a grave by the side of the road and say the necessary prayers. Leon and some others refused to attend, but Jona stood by the grave in silence as the volunteers filled it again.

He was the boy's father, wasn't he? Her husband? I asked Sol. He gave a short nod. Jona's husband had left before Leon was born, and that boy had grown up believing his father had been murdered. They had shared the same name.

I should have told her the truth, but I knew so little of it that I'd probably just confuse or insult her. I couldn't explain what her husband had been chasing, or how he had lost his memories, or why finally remembering her and their son meant that, despite circumstances, he'd died at peace.

Before I could decide what to do, Alfitaria's caravan reassumed its march. With a sigh and a lament about the turn of events, Andy returned to Fum's caravan and they also left, leaving me to continue on to the port to cross the river and reach Selepation Cave.

.

Fighting the giant worm is no joke, but the myrrh tree's chamber is one of my favorite places to be. The high winds cool you off from the fight, it's quiet -good quiet, not like that dead silence from a few days before- and it's so far south that it practically overlooks the sea. I stood by the railing and thought.

I was still holding onto the idea that I couldn't do anything about _anything_ unless I either jeopardized my duty or relinquished it, but my resolve had never been very strong to begin with. The death of the Black Knight only weakened it more, and now I was facing the wind and wondering how I could find out what had stolen his and Hurdy's memories, and if it actually had anything to do with miasma at all. And that was the thing: I had a vague idea of how to get where Hurdy had said the answer was, but no clue as to what I would be up against. Probably not even Hurdy knew when he got there, which left me with the choice of following his exact same footsteps: get there and face the unknown, and I knew damn well how that had turned out.

All this considering that I somehow managed to get that fabled fifth element. But Hurdy never wrote about _how_ to get it; he wrote about its qualities, its power, the philosophy behind it, everything, just not where it was. Which was a grim detail in an on itself. He'd either believed he wouldn't survive, or he'd believed he _would_, making his current state all the more bitter and my decision even worse. It felt like balancing on the edge; stay on top of that cliff, safe and sound, or dive and hope to find the greatest treasure ever. Or die. Or forget.

Still, that treasure….

Funny thing is, I practically shoved myself off the edge because of what happened next. Or rather, because of whom I encountered on the road after leaving the cave.

He was with Leuda's this time. It was morning, and the two Selkies were starting to pick up their roadside camp when I passed by. Dah Yis was making small-talk when he saw me staring off over his shoulder, and he turned to see the person that had exited the tent. The man looked around, dusting his robe off until he saw me and smiled a trickster's smile. It was Gurdy alright, but he was dressed in the white robes of a preacher.

Hana Kohl called Dah Yis over as Gurdy approached me. He must have seen the surprise on my face, because he jokingly confirmed he was in fact Gurdy. Those, he explained, were his brother's clothes.

Despite Hana Kohl's angry glare, Gurdy and I sat far from the caravan so he could explain that sometimes he liked to put on his brother's clothes to remember him, a person he admired…in a way. They were like night and day, he said; his brother was kind, sincere and ambitious, unafraid of working hard to get what he wanted. In fact, Gurdy said, he tried to do something quite amazing. What do you think it was? He asked.

He tried to save the world, I answered.

Gurdy laughed and nodded- for all appearances a nonchalant gesture, but it was hollow. He tried to rid the world of miasma, Gurdy repeated in an almost dismissive tone; quite an extraordinary goal, and incredibly hard too. Apparently he'd come very close to the truth.

Then Gurdy's smile fell. He asked me if I believed him, but he didn't let me answer. He said the strangest thing: that he had no memories of anything besides his brother. For the longest time he didn't say anything more, and just sat leisurely under the tree, with the emptiest, most sincere look on his face.

Though they were few, those memories where the only things that were true in him; he made up all those lies and scams to cover the hollowness.

With a sigh, he lightened up a little, saying that, hey, if the lies he said turned out to be true, then maybe they were things he'd just forgotten.

The moment ended when Hana called him over; they were done packing and ready to go. Gurdy and I stood up, and he bade me farewell, reciting a new verse as always: "Three rocks await the winter's kiss. One by one they find their bliss."

Maybe I stood up too quickly, because I felt light-headed as I watched him walk away. But that couldn't be it- my vision suddenly got blurry, and everything started to spin. I shut my eyes hard, trying to hold my balance, but when I opened them it felt like the floor was pulled from under my feet and I was looking over a great blank space. Bellow there were two people: the Black Knight and Hurdy… or was that Gurdy dressed in his brother's clothes?

A beautiful female voice resonated through the void.

"_You cannot defeat Raem. You are not ready."_

This girl, she spoke to them so desperately. They couldn't hear her. Or they didn't want to.

"_Your memories are not enough…_"

The voice was fading, giving up…

And I was back to reality, in the same spot; I hadn't even fallen. As I shook my head and tried to make sense of what'd just happened, Gurdy called to me and said: I forgot to tell you…I've never met my brother. If you run into him, kindly let me know.

.

One letter to Roland was all it took. "Did he ever have a brother?" I wrote, and received the answer about a week latter: No. Both Hurdy's parents died when he was young, leaving no other children behind.

A person couldn't live with an empty mind, and much less with the knowledge that they once had had memories in there. The Black Knight had chosen to chase that light to regain them, but never before had I considered how Hurdy, wherever he was, had tried to fill that void.

After that conversation with Gurdy, an idea occurred to me: maybe he filled it with lies. White lies, scams, lies about his intentions, lies about his name.

Yes, one of them fought against the emptiness and got a bittersweet victory, while the other tried his damned best to eliminate it. If someone was constantly aware of the emptiness and knew what _should_ be there, then it was possible that they, in a way, remembered- I mean, the _idea_ of the memory would be there, right? No specifics, just something vague… like a similar sounding name to give themselves.

I encounter Gurdy a second time not too long after the last one, and he's with the Selkie bandit Bal Dat and his gang, trying to con the next traveler to pass by. They act as if I don't know what they're up to- and maybe Bal Dat truly doesn't understand, but Gurdy knows me and I know him, and he can see I'm just playing along when I offer a striped apple instead of the ransom money the bandits are asking for their 'hostage'. To his horror, Bal Dat takes my offer.

Do you know everyone who's ever traveled these roads? He angrily asked me when we where 'left alone' (please; the bandits were hiding only a few meters down the road). And I thought that maybe yes, I did. But right now that wasn't my concern; instead I grabbed on to the opportunity and asked him the only thing that was logical to ask.

How did the poem end?

That poem was the only constant thing about him, the only sincere thing in him- therefore, one of his original memories. Or at least I hoped it was.

"In the end shall bloom a flower. Sacred light reveals its power."

That was the last verse. I had never shown interest in the poem before, and this sudden change confused Gurdy, making him suspicious. People being interested in his truths must have been rare for him, so he quickly explained that it was said those verses were clues to reveal a legendary treasure hidden in the desert.

He said so much with that simple lie that I remained silent for a while. Do you think that's a lie? He asked me suddenly, and after thinking about it, I said yes. But I believed his lies.

.

If he said that the treasure was in the desert, then that was where I would go. After all, he had made the trip to Lynari desert at least once before, together with the Black Knight as they searched for clues about the fifth element- Gurdy's words just fitted. By this point, I had made up my mind, and without a shadow of a doubt I was going to search for that element with everything I had. You would think that this decision took a lot of hesitation, but it wasn't like that- it was the most natural thing in the world. It was like the Black Knight once said: there doesn't need to be a reason to try to save the world.

Waiting for the next year and collecting the first two drops of myrrh didn't bother me at all; I patiently did my duty first and left the desert for last so that I would have marginally more time to find clues.

Each verse of the poem mentioned something that could be found in the desert, so I took a sheet from my journal and wrote the bits that I could use:

"_Lightning brings the cactus pain._

_Of crumbled inn few reminiscence.  
Its faulty beams will not be missed_

_Lonely mushroom bursts to flame  
In the land that quicksand claims._

_Three rocks await the winter's kiss._

_In the end shall bloom a flower  
Sacred light reveals its power."_

And with writing this it was easy to notice that, except for the second, every verse mentioned a magical element that could be cast as a spell. So it wasn't a big stretch to imagine that I had to cast Thunder on a cactus or Blizzard on three rocks, whatever that would do. I wouldn't know until I did it.

Lynari Desert is vast, and one of the places I was less familiar with, but there are a series of landmarks that the Selkies of Leuda have learned to use to make their way through it. It turned out that the three rocks were one of the landmarks, as well as the mushroom-shaped rock formations near the quicksand pits; and there was an old, abandoned tent that treasure hunters referred to as 'the inn' because it was the best place to camp. But there was nothing about any flower, and the best the Selkie I spoke to could tell me about a cactus was where some clusters of them were in relation to the other landmarks.

And still, the cactus was not too hard to find. In fact, it was close to the 'entrance' of the desert- the high rock wall that separates the dangerous zone from the sand lands outside of Leuda. It was further north from the cluster, and the highest cactus by far. And yes, I felt a little silly casting Thunder on a cactus, but it was worth the try. I eyed it for a moment before setting sword and shield down; there were no monsters around, so why not make it a good cast? Holding the thunder magicite in my left hand and lifting my right, keeping my eyes on the target, I concentrated on pulling out the magic out of the stone until I felt the spark run through my body and reach my fingertips. Focusing enough energy for a Thundara spell and seeing only the target ahead of me, I began: One, two, three- and let it go!

The shockwave that ensued hit me in the face and made me stagger back. But Thundara doesn't release that type of force. I recovered from the hit in time to see a sphere of purple energy surround the cactus for a few seconds and then shoot up towards the sky, leaving a thunderous rumble behind.

Mog actually dropped the chalice in surprise, and I just stood there, mouth agape, a sense of thrill quickly rising in my chest and my heart skipping beats. Automatically I turned and cast another spell on a random cactus and nothing happened. Nothing! I suddenly found myself laughing, cheering, and shaking Mog around because something had happened!

The inn gave me some trouble. I had to go through the spells until Gravity connected, causing the same effect as before. I cheered again, I couldn't help it. I may not have known what exactly was going on, but my suspicions had bore results; there was some strange magic there and who knew what was at the end of it. So I just rushed forward, on to the next target and eliminating everything that stood in my way.

The mushroom was the same as the others, and when I got to the three rocks, the day was waning. The rocks where in a triangle formation; a small one, a medium one and a big one. After considering it for a long time, I cast the first spell on the smallest. This time the targets retained the energy in them until the last spell was done, and then the beams of light shot up simultaneously.

After seeing them go there was a bright flash of light from behind me, and when I turned there was now a fourth beam of light shinning steadily in the distance. I may have been tired, but thinking about it, now that the cold of the desert night was starting to set in, it was the best time to run. One last push, I told myself, and pressed forward.

As night descended and I got closer, the glow grew stronger. It took a long time to get there because Mog was beat and I had to carry both him and the chalice, which meant I had to plan my battles more carefully.

But finally getting there… when I first laid my eyes on it, made out what it actually was, the weariness washed away. A beautiful flower, seemingly a rose with petals made out of- what? I don't know, and I didn't dare touch it, but it looked like glass that fragmented the light into colors. I sat besides it for a long time; even Mog sensed it- there was a strange protecting aura around it. We could rest there safely. This is it, I thought. I knew what spell to cast, but I needed to regain my strength to do it.

Again putting my weapon down, I held the so-called Life magicite in both hands, closed my eyes and focused on pulling out the strength from it and from the Blizzard ring on my finger. When the filling sensation of the Holy spell surrounded me, I opened my eyes to see the flower before me, and let the spell go.

The flower's light shimmered and the petals fell away, revealing from inside them a pedestal, like the ones our ancestors had built to channel the elemental powers of an area into the crystal chalice. But this one did not have the runes that indicated its element engraved- it was a clean slate of white stone.

There was no cheering, no rush. I did hesitate a little before placing the chalice on it, but gods, if I was right, if this really was what it seemed to be…. So I took my chances, and the chalice glowed for a few seconds, the myrrh stirring and the crystal chiming. When it was done and I picked it up the faint glow that usually indicates the elemental alignment was clear. You always have to look closely to notice it, but no matter how much I looked or how close I put my hand to see if color reflected on it, there was no red-ish hue of fire, or blue of water or green of wind. It was just pure light.

That night we rested in a nook between the rocks, as close to the flower as I could find. Mog slept as I kept first watch, though it's lucky the desert sleeps at night as well, because my attention was on the chalice's crystal. I decided to keep the discovery a secret; the last thing I wanted was to have it taken away from me and kept unused for too long when in only one year I could find the answer by myself. The expectation was almost unbearable, but it made me smile. I really could do something about…_something_. I would see exactly what it was when the time came; this was just the beginning.

The next day was almost the end, too.

The Antlion is by far one of the strongest monsters in the world. Not only is it a giant, but it is smart; the sandpit it lives in is specially built to trap the prey at the bottom, along with the scorpions and with little space to move. Its hide is tough and its legs reach far. But I'd done this before; there was no reason to believe I couldn't do it again.

Maybe I got overconfident because of the circumstances, or because the fight, up until the end, was going well.

When the Antlion was severely weakened and its back unprotected, I dashed forward, dodging to avoid its jaws. It rammed its legs on the ground, but I was too close to its body for it to hit me. Taking a sharp turn I jumped up on its ramped back and in a few sprints I was at the top, sword held high- with all the weight of my body, I impaled the sword on the top of its head.

It staggered violently, throwing me to the ground as it roared and flayed its legs in all directions. I just stepped as far away as possible to wait for it to die. The scorpions were fleeing. The battle was over.

When the Antlion finally toppled over, I approached it to retrieve my sword, breathing a sight of relief. As I reached for the sword, the Antlion opened its eyes.

I had a fraction of a second to lift my shield and block the swipe of the pincer that sent me flying back from the force. The shield was flung away and I was on my stomach, trying to crawl away from the spidery legs that were threatening to skewer me to the ground. By sheer luck it didn't hit me; something must have been damaged after all. With the sword far away I had to charge up a Blizzard spell- weak, but anything went at that moment. One after another, I threw ice spells to the wound on its head. It was slowing, sinking again- going down. At last I could stand my ground and concentrate enough to charge a Blizzaga spell and end this.

The leg that hit me on the side connected just as the spell took effect. I landed face-first into the sand. I was shield-less, and a dullness in my head clouded my senses; I couldn't stand. The only thing left to do was wait for the last blow to kill me.

But it didn't come. Blinking away the sand I turned to see where the Antlion was, and saw it sprawled on the ground, its jaws slaked and with ice already melting off them. Oh. I had won.

Somehow I managed to pull off a feeble cure spell, and use what little strength it gave me to stumble into the myrrh tree's chamber. Vaguely I could feel my clothes getting wetter and wetter with blood, though there was no pain; Mog's worried shouts barely registered. Putting the chalice on the pedestal took too much effort, and I passed out before the myrrh dropped.

.

Lights fading in and out, faces of people I knew and another who I did not, and that voice, the pleading voice I had heard once before…. I saw those things as if they were real, as if I could hear them. For days, those dreams were my reality. The voice, the girl, she spoke of memories- of the memories of Hurdy, of Leon, and retold some of my memories to me.

"_Maybe they are enough_." She whispered in my ear. "_But what about her?"_She showed me Korina- just Korina standing there besides her house's door. _"Or them?" _My brother, in my father's arms. "_Are you willing to forget them? Let__him__take them away?"_

_No. I wouldn't._

When I finally managed to answer her, I woke up.

I found myself inside a Selkie tent, far away from the desert and with bandages covering most of me.

It took weeks for me to recover, and I could never give enough thanks to the people who helped me. Much less to Mog. He put up with so much crap, and he didn't even have to, yet he never left my side while I was recovering.

I probably would have hired a moogle to carry the chalice anyway, but I met Mog at the onset of my first year on the job. Before, he'd been traveling with a moogle name Siltzskin, a renowned adventurer, but the apprenticeship wasn't working. Out of a chance meeting, he decided to stick with me for the time being, and see where that led him. That 'time being' had become 10 years of caravanning.

Why? I asked him one time when my fever had lessened. He replied that, well, he liked it better than wandering aimlessly, what had happened lately was interesting and…weren't we friends?

Besides, he pointed out as he pulled something closer to me, setting the chalice right besides the bed. The light of the crystal still shone clear. We have this, Mog said; we went through so much trouble to get it, might as well find out what it does.

He knew mostly everything about my intentions, but now I had to tell him about the voice. Even if it had been something brought on by the fever, it had felt too real, to…individual for me to ignore. Someone had been talking to me, and it wasn't my subconscious- that girl knew something.

That day I saw that vision of Hurdy and the Black knight, I'd been too preoccupied with Gurdy to really put much thought into it -I had kidded myself into thinking it had just been caused by fatigue- but now that it was recurring, there were the same points in both: loosing memories to 'him.' Raem, wasn't it?

It explained a little. Had that been how Hurdy and the Black Knight lost their memories, because that guy stole them? It was plausible, but who or what Raem was, I couldn't fathom a guess. Still, if that was what resided on the west, and if it was sentient, I may stand a chance against it.

.

One day was all I had to rest that year. I made it back in the nick of time, and had to set out immediately. But that didn't matter; the wound was mostly healed and I had a lot of stuff to do now. Instead of wondering aimlessly about things no one could answer, I decided to head west again, to the miasma stream where I'd seen that strange creature. It would be quick- just a peek of what laid beyond, maybe figure out if Mag Mell was really there. Just like Hurdy had thought years before, if I found the legendary village's inhabitants, it could be they had the answers to all my questions.

However, the first obstacle in getting there was one of the normal miasma streams. I still had to test the unknown element from the desert. But if my chalice really had the ruling element then it could be assumed that it could cross a miasma stream regardless of its elemental alignment, right?

Right. We passed from Tipa Peninsula to the Iron Mine Downs without a hitch. Again we collected two drops of myrrh before getting out of schedule, since it had proven to be essential last time.

Some weeks later we had reached the westernmost part of the plains again, and stood facing the swirling mass of miasma that hid so much behind it. Taking one last look back, Mog and I pressed on forward. Moving was still as difficul, but it was different this time: when we reached the mirror barrier and the push got stronger and stronger, the chalice began to counter the force, putting up a fight against miasma until finally the usual explosion of noise occurred, resulting in the bubble that protected us the rest of the way to the other side of the stream.

What stretched before us was an abyss; a deep rent on the earth shouldered by bare rock cliffs. There were no trees, no grass, no life. That may have been the only time I felt complete and utter silence- it seemed like the place had quieted even my breathing. In the distance, at what seemed to be the westernmost part of the world, there was a Mount that looked like it'd been cut in half; the west side connected to a vertical and jagged rock wall.

For a long time I just stood there, looking down at that great valley, taking it all in. The desolation was almost unbearable except for one thing: to the south, following the ridge, there was a series of plateaus overlooking the valley. It didn't look like a natural formation, if the arches and pillars supporting the structures were anything to go by. The colors of vegetation were visible from afar, and on top of each platform there were these translucent domes that didn't look like any building I'd ever seen. If there was anywhere I should go now, it was there.

It was a bit higher and somehow the change in temperature was drastic. As we got closer the wind began to blow- a frigid, light breeze that chilled my bones. Along with it, it brought the sound of swaying grass and a faint tinkling of bells.

The entrance to the platforms was narrow, so I got down from the caravan to walk into the strange city- because that's what it was: the whole plateau, from the base to the top edges was carved, and each platform had one of those domes on its center, surrounded by grass and connected by streets that twisted and turned downward or outwards so that each platform hung above the ground. There was even what seemed to be lampposts on some corners- a strange plant-like thing that had a glowing sphere on the tip.

Mog went one way and I went another to explore; although there was no crystal, we could feel miasma wasn't around us here.

Once close to one of them I realized that those domes were actually giant cocoons, and the things I'd seen from afar where actually even bigger cocoons that had decayed with time- the remaining halves sheltered the newer ones. I cannot say what they were made of, but they seemed to reflect light, and were so dense I could not see through.

Except for one. I examined all the cocoons on the entrance's level, but only the one at the very end -overlooking the center of the valley- was different. It was dull, no light shinning off it, and I could see the faint outline of something big and round inside it. One side was a little decayed, and that's how I saw it: the same creature I'd seen inside the miasma stream two years ago, that huge monster with the twisted horns that -now I could see clearly- held a red crystal atop. The creature laid curled on itself, apparently asleep.

Out of impulse I tried to peek further in through the gaps, placing my hand on the surface. Upon my touch it began to crumble. Horrified, I watched as that whole side came undone, bringing down with it part of the front and exposing the creature completely. It stirred, making a sound like an annoyed grumble and -my heart jumped to my throat- opening an eye. It was a half-second of a glance from those orange eyes I remembered so well- then it frowned, curled itself tighter, and began to snore.

I was petrified, torn between wondering what to do and vaguely observing that it was stirring uncomfortably and that those snores sounded rather forced. Mog caught up to me and looked at the disaster I had made. As we bickered about the mess, the creature stirred again, and in a hurried grumble it said, Look, I'm sleeping, and snored loudly.

Yes. It spoke. My language- _the_ language. I was so astounded that I felt the need to inform it of what it'd just done, loudly and repeatedly. It just wanted me to go away, and it told me so, but I just crouched and started pelting it with questions: what was he? What was this place? Why was he pretending to sleep? Was this Mag Mell?

With that, it opened its eyes and stared intently at me. Then, slowly, he uncurled, stretching his long arms and sitting up to tower over me, giving a long, heavy sigh. Why should it answer my questions, it wondered, scratching its head. Mortals had long forgotten this place, and there was nothing for us there anymore.

But that wasn't true, I countered; not so long ago someone had come looking for answers- surely because he believed someone here might help him, and I believed the same. And this _had_ to be Mag Mell; why would this creature call me a mortal if it was one too?

You do not understand, the creature insisted patiently; they -it gestured to the other cocoons- wished to do nothing at all, because doing things created memories, and didn't I know how dangerous that could be?

No? So… mortals had forgotten….

It gave another long sigh and extended its hand to me, beckoning me closer. He was Carbuncle, he explained; it was in his nature to help mortals like me and, yes, Hurdy and Leon.

The day did not fade, even though we sat and talked for a long time. There was so much to say, so many questions I had and so many things I couldn't answer. First the Carbuncle wanted to know how much time had passed since the last time humans came to Mag Mell. You see, Carbuncles don't perceive time beyond the concept of before, now and after; they don't feel the hours or years, so they can remember things from ages ago as if they'd happened the day before. I couldn't give him an exact answer, but he dismissed my apologies, saying that it only really mattered to me; I and everyone else were the ones who had had to spend all that time still fighting miasma.

After hearing a bit more about the current world, he spoke about how it used to be before, when miasma was something new and unknown. Everything started some years after a great star fell from the sky- right there, at the top of the mount that could be seen in the horizon from the platform- and shattered the Great Crystal. It was a terrible blow for mortals, since the crystal was revered for its power and greatness, and the sheer destructive force of the star caused many loses. It only got worse when miasma started to engulf the world. In humanity's darkest hour, it was the Carbuncles who stepped in to help; while many people instinctually flocked to the scattered crystals for protection, when those crystal's light's faded they succumbed to miasma despite their hopes. Had the Carbuncles not told them about myrrh and where to find it, things would have ended up much differently.

It took a lot of time and many towns and cities fell before humanity could stabilize itself again. We were only a shadow of what we used to be, but we managed in the end. You should have seen them, he told me with a faint smile; It was hectic and it was hard, but seeing the first caravans… I don't really know what it meant, but seeing you survive…it felt good.

But the Carbuncles paid a price for their help.

Something was awakened with miasma, and it too started wrecking through our lives, eating memories and leaving people hollow. It's a demon who feasts on memories, the Carbuncle explained; his name is Raem. I said nothing upon hearing this, even though that name reverberated throughout the whole of me, sending chills down my spine because _I remembered it_.

When people managed to fend miasma away, regain a bit of a normal life, their sadness and fear lessened. The demon was enraged- he ate the memories despair created, and they were taking his food away from him. So he turned to those who helped the humans: he began devouring the Carbuncle's memories, leaving them as hollow as he did mortals. Endangered, the Carbuncles had to barricade themselves in this village, raising up their own barriers against Raem and choosing to sleep and fade away from the world so that if their defenses were ever breached they had no new memories the demon could take away from them. They'd helped the humans as best as they could; there was nothing left to do anymore.

I could believe all that; after all, I had heard the rumors in Shella about old texts describing the meteorite's crash and its relation to miasma. But still, I couldn't help but feel there was something he wasn't telling me.

So, could miasma be destroyed or not? I asked. He didn't answer. And the myrrh trees- why had they sprouted and how did the Carbuncles know about them? Why did the demon and the threat he posed become legend?

What about the fifth element- how had Hurdy found out about it? And…why did he fail?

He just looked at the horizon, at the Mount. Why was I there, he asked me suddenly. Surely it was because I wanted to do the same Hurdy had tried to, yet I didn't really know what I was going up against. Well, Hurdy and Leon failed because destroying miasma meant destroying the demon, he said simply. Then he looked down at me. He had seen it happen many times, and every time it hurt- brave warriors figured out how to get there, ready to march to the Mount and fight for their freedom. Some stopped at Mag Mell, others didn't- it didn't matter; none succeeded.

You'll be just another gamble, he warned me. Do you really want to play your own life like that?

I had never felt so cold in my life. It was a bit like the first time I met him inside the miasma stream- reality beat down on me, slamming my spirits against the ground and making me waver. Finding the fifth element, crossing that impenetrable miasma stream, being _there_- it had felt like I'd been going through a dream up until that very moment. But finally I had woken up, and for the first time in my life, I felt _old_. 27 years of life- normal people had families by that age, had taken over their parent's trades. And after the next year, my term as a caravanner would end…. I could just retire, and leave the world in the hands of others. Suddenly the idea didn't bother me like before.

Then something clicked, and I told him about the visions. That girl's voice- the one who knew about Raem and Hurdy and memories- _that's_ what he wasn't telling me. Who was she? Where did she fit in all this?

The Carbuncle's eyes widened when he heard this. _She_spoke to you? He asked; That is rare indeed. Scratching his head, he stared down at me for the longest time, while I could only hold his gaze. I couldn't promised him anything, but surely there had been a reason why she'd told me about the memories and about Raem; why she had asked me if I was willing to let my memories go. My answer to her still stood: no, I wouldn't let my family, Korina, or my friends go, but I _was_ willing to try and give them a world without miasma. Maybe I wouldn't succeed, but what if I _did_? That's why you gamble: for the prize.

Another long silence passed and in the end the Carbuncle nodded. Come back next year, he told me; see the world for what you can, and when you have made your absolute choice, return here. We will explain everything. What you do from there will be up to you.

.

The world is different when you know your days are numbered. The days pass slowly and much too quickly at the same time, and you're not sure which pace you prefer. I hadn't planned it to be that way, but the Carbuncle's words had put a sort of deadline on me- of course I could choose not to return, but I was going to, no question, and when I finally understood everything, I'd march to the Mount and end everything.

But even with the Mount looming in the horizon, I was happy. Those two weeks I spent in Tipa at the end of the year were the most peaceful I ever had. Because my term as a caravanner was ending, I could talk with Korina about what kind of future might await us after the next year- it could be the best. Or the worst, but why would I tell her that? I held my secrets close because of many reasons: someone might try to stop me, or they would let me go and when I didn't return, they would have to live with that weight on their minds. Better let her and my family believe that I'd died on the job.

And also, believing that I _would_ return gave me hope for myself. I wanted to carry the memory of those shared dreams to that battle.

When I had to set out again it felt like the first time I had left the village; heading on to what I knew was hardship, yet I wanted to go. Saying goodbye was the same too- me looking back and promising myself to remember the faces of the people on that bridge.

.

All the Carbuncles had woken up by the time I returned. From the far end of the village the Carbuncle I'd spoken to before beckoned me, and as I made my way there the others left their grassy spots and followed until we were all gathered on that platform. I was at the center, they were very curious about a human being there, it was a little embarrassing. But each and every one of them had something to say.

Since many ages ago -some would even say since the beginning of time- there existed a queen- a beautiful, kind Lady who nibbled on the memories of humans to keep the right balance; balance of what, exactly, they could not explain- they may know many things, but it didn't mean they understood them. After the meteor crashed and the demon was born to wreak destruction on the natural course of things, the Lady had to do something. She fought the demon and in the end locked him as far away from people as she could- somewhere he could not reach them: in the abyss, at the top of Mount Vellegne. Bounding him to that place meant that his power was diminished, so he was unable to destroy as much lives as he pleased. He still could, but it took him much longer. Unless a person came too close to the place.

At the top of the Mount, inside the remains of the meteor, there is a giant beast that spews the massive quantities of miasma that plague the world. But as huge as it is, it is not the biggest threat. It cannot be killed because Raem won't allow it. The Carbuncles didn't really know which one exactly killed most of the people who across the centuries had tried to defeat the parasite; Raem would certainly fight for the parasite's survival, even harder than the parasite itself.

But the Lady wished for this to end as much as humans do. If she'd spoken to me, then certainly she'd be waiting for me at the Mount too. Should we meet, she would explain everything at last. Defeating Raem would be up to me.

xXx

I made too much noise; the Chimera noticed me. With a shriek it charged to the attack- horns and tentacle first. I rushed to meet it, sidestepped and ducked at the last second, protecting my head with the shield and slashing at the monster's legs. It fell and skidded on the ground and before it could understand what had happened I stepped on the tentacle and cut it off. It trashed from the pain, exposing its soft spot underneath the shell- close to the throat, where its legs are not a problem. A few stabs and it was dead.

That's the first monster I face here, I think, flicking the blood off the sword; and by far the weakest. I could already see an unknown monster warrior further down the path and could hear the tolling of bells coming closer. But those are not the bells from Mag Mell; this sound is funeral.

And still, that heartbeat. As another Chimera appears, tailed closely by what I can only say is a Shade -the ghoul that carries the bells and a long, rusty knife- and I ready myself for battle, I tell myself that I would not, could not, leave that place until that heart stopped beating.

* * *

Motherf- I'm done. Gosh, I'd told myself I would finish this by the end of January. Check it out, it's April. This is so embarrasing.

I may come back and tweak this a bit more some time later, but if I revise this _one more time_ right now_,_there's a chance I won't post it at all, and enough is enough. But to be fair, I underestimated this chapter and the sheer volume of content it was going to have. Writing this, it kinda made me wish I'd gone the traditional route and written a novelization- there were a lot of details that were left out for the sake of flow and pacing, and the chain of events doesn't really...change much from the actual game, except for a few liberties I took. The thing is, there are many fanfics in this section that put their own spin on the main plot- and that's totally cool! they're great, so...I feel a little overwhelmed because I'm _not_doing that. So, if you will, think of this story as the more 'traditional' of the takes on the game. However, I hope that my take on the characters makes up for that. I split Thomas' account in two to be able to handle the characters of Mio and Raem better. It's gonna be a tough chapter to write, but I feel like I'll be able to do it quickly this time. Hopefully.


	5. Letters from Across the Divide pt 2

**Letters from Across the Divide**

**Part 2**

The entrance to the crater was high up the Mount, but the drop was steep and rock walls hid the right path from view. From what little I could see it twisted and turned until it reached the bottom where, half-buried in the ground, there was a dome that looked as if it had grown in layers.

Ahead the road split left and right. I went right.

As I ran down the hill I began to worry. Sword and shield had carried me through all these years and I was confident in my skill, but part of that confidence also came from knowing what I was fighting. Most monsters are organic- in a way. We may not know where they come from or how they keep spawning if no one has ever seen a newborn, but they have weaknesses, are affected by their environment; weapons and magic are enough to get rid of them. A demon, a Lady of Light… they were not the same thing.

Skidding over the loose earth and stopping against a rock, I took a moment to look at my sword. Excalibur was a good blade; expertly made, sharp and heavy enough. But could it…?

I shook my head; hesitating was not a good idea. I forced the thought away and kept going. The Carbuncles hadn't said anything and I stupidly didn't ask, but a sword would have to do for this task. It had to.

The deeper I went the stronger my worries grew. The monsters in that place were not normal. There were not as many of them as I had thought, but they made up for it with viciousness and strength. Quimeras were indeed the weakest and they lingered at the edges; Shades became my main enemies, followed by these giant, fleshy Spheres with metal arms that spun around and cast Time magic and poison. Gravity spells and attacks worked on them, and at least they dropped magicite, but it was still _different_. I believe that monsters adapt from their surroundings, almost like animals; Gigan Toads in cold places, Worms in forests. With the bare, jagged rocks and the dark sky of that place, maybe these faceless, undefined creatures were all that there could be.

For long stretches of time I would run and not encounter anything in my way. The path split constantly, forcing me to blindly decide which way to go; a lot of times I wound up at a dead end or at the edge of a cliff- or face to face with a monster. The worse was when I stumbled onto the armored monster I'd seen from the top. The fight was tough; the monster was big and fast, but thankfully not very smart. Afterwards, I decided to avoid such direct confrontations if possible. After all, that had been how I always worked; caravanners shouldn't be measured by how many monsters they slay, but for how good they were at getting to the myrrh.

Down and down the path went. While at the beginning I had been on edge and running, I slowed my pace to be able to listen to what may lay ahead. That way I could hide or sneak away from the Shades and their tolling bells, or the stomping feet of other dead knights. It was weird, having to walk so slowly through that place. After a time, it began to remind me of the moon- the rocks had that rugged look to them, only brown and dirty instead of silver.

It dawned on me that that thing at the center of the crater had come from beyond the sky. I really wanted to laugh at that -it sounded so ridiculous, impossible!- but couldn't because deep down it was terrifying. Luckily the sky was covered in clouds and it was day, because I don't think I could have bared to face the night sky at that moment. The sheer vastness of it would have been too much. If a parasite had come with that meteor, what else was out there in that infinity?

But I shook my head and kept my sight decidedly ahead, forbidding myself from looking up. This was the now, the earth, the task at hand. I would…I would spiral into madness later.

.

At last the path became one and the slope leveled out. A turn, a clumsy step on uneven ground and I fell. A cloud of ash lifted, dense enough to blur my vision. It slowly cleared away to reveal how close I was to the dome: it loomed high in front of me, the little flecks of ash drifting away from its walls

The enemies had dwindled by now; the Spheres seemed to have stayed behind, and because there was nowhere else to turn I had to face off against the Shades and Death Knights until I reached the entrance to the dome- a large hole on the rock, too dark to see anything beyond it.

For a long time I huddled in a nook in the rock wall outside, eating something and healing myself. Once I had recovered enough strength, I stood up and marched towards the entrance and stood there, watching and breathing shallowly. I glanced back. You cannot imagine how much I wanted to return; just drop the sword and make my way up to the Mount and keep going until I was far away. But that would have been pathetic- I was _right there,_after all that time of telling myself that I'd do this. How could I live a life always wondering what it would have been like to take that single step forward; always thinking about the possibilities, the maybes, the regrets?

So I took the step. And then another and another until the darkness surrounded me.

The faint glow of the chalice's crystal was the only thing lightning the way; Mog ventured in front of me so that I could see ahead and for a time there was nothing besides complete darkness. Then, turning a corner we were suddenly hit by a blue-green glow that spread all over the floor, giving enough light to see clearly. My footsteps crunched on the ground and I stopped to see that the trail was not dirt and ash anymore, but what seemed like glass and luminescent granite. The path had turned into a series of thin trails over a deep chasm; on the far end they lead to the mouth of another cave buried in the ground. The heartbeat coming from it vibrated through the walls of the dome.

Though it was still going down, the road was less steep, so I could see the obstacles ahead: more Shades (_great_) patrolling the air; plant-like tentacles jutting from the ground in some corners; a short, stout figure carrying a swaying lantern- it moved slowly and the lantern's light was barely enough to illuminate the robed creature. It was too far away to see clearly, but that shape… was that a Tonberry? I'd never seen one outside of Moschet Manor, and the ones there weren't very troublesome to deal with; seeing one there was almost relieving.

There had actually been two paths leading to this place: to the left there was another trail, but it was disconnected from the one I was on. I'd chosen the correct path, though, because the left one was littered with even more monsters.

.

The next obstacle in my path was a Shade that lingered close to a Tentacle that stood opposite to a strange stone that glowed with a faint red light. It was somewhat crystal-like and I assumed it was just another strange mineral, product of the place.

As I stealthily approached them I was preparing the Holy spell. There was a strange buzzing sound growing louder and louder the nearer I got, but I paid it no mind as I unleashed the spell on the Shade and made it recoil back in pain. The Tentacle sprung to action, shooting an ice spell at my feet. It covered the spot it hit with a thin layer of ice and nicked my shoe, but fighting the Shade had me moving quickly and the spells never hit me.

The buzzing sound was pounding against my ears, but it made no sense- there were no other monsters around and they couldn't be hiding; if there was no immediate danger then I had to concentrate on what was there. I lunged forward to release a Fira spell on the Tentacle, and soon it was writhing in pain from the flames engulfing its body. I spun around, stepping back to defend myself against the Shade's attack. Mog was screaming something through his hold on the chalice. I didn't hear him.

Suddenly a sharp pain struck my lungs and I chocked. I tried to drag in air and got nothing but miasma. My shield was automatically in front of me, fending off the Shade's axe. The hit broke my defense, throwing me back. I was drowning, panic quickly rising. What had happened? Why had the crystal failed me?

The Shade was approaching. Any moment now and it would recover its immaterialness.

Then Mog was flying between me and it, the useless chalice left behind. The red crystal! Thomas, destroy it! He yelled, while below him a heat ring was appearing- the beginning of a Fire spell. I sprung to my feet, my body protesting all the way as I struck the red crystal with the sword. The only result was a disturbance in the buzz. The hit was too weak.

My mind was slipping; I had little time left and I needed more strength. Without thinking I threw the sword away, unhooked the shield from my arm and took it in both hands, raising it above my head to bash the crystal. The effort made me stagger but I did it again and again and again, feeling like needles punctured my lungs with every breath. Behind me I could feel the heat of another Fire spell rising, and the buzzing noise was pounding in and out in waves. I landed one last hit before nearly passing out.

A crack, a crumble, and the buzz stopped abruptly. Air rushed to my lungs. Clarity returned as I took a mouthful of air and rolled away from the falling bits of crystal, clutching the shield to my chest. Mog flew over to me; there was cut on the side of his body. The Tentacle had perished under the fire attacks, but the Shade was still coming at us.

Breathlessly I commanded Mog to prepare one last fire spell, and in seconds the ring of heat appeared right at my feet. Still on my back, I took a deep breath and dragged the power of the Life magicite to aim it at the ring.

The Shade lunged forward and the spell connected. Mog dodged out of the way and I lifted the shield to parry the axe. It slipped on the surface, giving me seconds to roll away.

Hold it down! I yelled to Mog as I scrambled to my feet. Mog dived towards the Shade and bit one of its arms, pulling it down. Again taking the shield in both hands I jumped forward and bashed the Shade into the ground. My strength grew with every blow and I didn't stop until the Shade vanished.

I let myself fall against the mound where the red crystal had been. Mog flew closer and I pulled him to me, holding tightly to try to stop the flow of blood from his wound. After several weak cure spells, we were both healed enough to rest properly.

Moogles are not meant to be fighters; some tried to be, but it took them years of practice. It had been the reason why Mog had been traveling with Siltzkin in the first place, though when he decided to accompany me instead we agreed that it was better that he didn't intervene in battles too much, because it tired him and then he wasn't able to carry the chalice efficiently. I still helped him practice, and it paid off; no normal Moogle would have been able to pull out so many spells so efficiently.

My sides still ached as I huddled against the rock and looked around at that landscape. The fright of nearly drowning subsided slowly, and all it allowed me to think during that time was that maybe… maybe I had made a mistake coming here alone.

A long time ago I had refused help. I said no to Mateo and Korina when the time came for them to join the caravan. A troublemaker was the last thing anyone in the village saw in me, but this was the only thing I stood firm about, was defiant about. That year I just left on my own before the rest of the village woke up. It brought me problems, it made them angry, but I had made my decision. Why? Because I thought I'd grown used to working on my own, fighting my own way- eventually that became true out of necessity, but at the beginning…I don't- no, I _do _know: I was scared of losing them, having things not work out, chickening out of the responsibility.

But here, at the end of the world… things were a little different. I regretted that decision. Even Hurdy had had someone with him, for all the good that did in the end.

This was the last thing I thought before falling into a jittery half-sleep.

Waking up to that wasteland was not pleasant, but and least Mog and I felt rested enough to continue.

Going on, I dispatched of the red crystals from a safe distance and cut through the monsters until I got to a point where I could see below what was left: a red crystal and two Tentacles that flanked the last bit of road before the entrance of the cave. The Tentacles were larger than normal and they blocked the path with their bodies, coiling like snakes over the narrow gap. The fight passed in a rush, and I don't care to remember it.

At the end I was left… not tired -the adrenaline and the expectation were too much for that- but shaken. This was it. The cave's opening was right ahead, the heartbeat pulsing from it harder than ever before. I gripped the hilt of the sword for comfort, reminding myself that I had been able to make it this far by it alone; this was just…this was just the end.

I hardly felt like myself as I walked the last few meters. I do remember telling Mog to run if things started to look hopeless and to take the chalice back to Tipa if possible, but then I was crouching down to fit through the hole, leaving everything else behind.

.

My heart hammered against my chest as I made my way through a narrow tunnel. Running my hand against the stone wall I felt the other pulse reverberate through the rough surface; even this close, it had no sound- the only noise to be heard was an overwhelming hum.

After a bend the exit came into view, lit by a dim light that came from above. Crouching down as quietly as possible I reached the edge; it was a few feet above the ground and opened onto a large chamber. The hum came from the right. I stood up, bracing myself- pressing by back against the wall, I took a deep breath and peeked around the corner. In seconds I registered the whole scene and hid myself again.

The chamber opened up to the sky so that a thick column of miasma could drift out into the world. It spiraled away from the thing at the center of the chamber.

The only way I can describe it is as a sort of fungus, though there is nothing it can be fully compared to- not in this world. A crown of bulbs circled inorganically around the flesh center that churned out the miasma. Together with the base, the bulbs were about two stories high, and that was only the top- the thing was buried in the ground, and the floor slopped on one side to another level.

Now think about it: for hundreds of years that disgusting thing had laid there releasing quantities of miasma large enough to cover the whole world, never stopping, never caring- just idly existing, parasitizing on the lives of people. Slowly and strongly an intense need to kill rouse in me- stop that mindless persistence, show it it had no business being in this world.

But I stilled myself, remembering to assess the situation first- I needed to have at least a vague idea of what I was going up against, because for as much as I looked there didn't seem to be anything sentient about it. That did not match what the Carbuncles had told me. I was expecting a fight, something to be there and attack the moment it saw me. Now I had to consider my options: getting closer and examining it, wait for a sign of consciousness, or perhaps outright attack it with a well-charged Firaga spell? It _was_ just a parasite, from what I understood it was not smart, so maybe a surprise attack or locating its core before-

Something flashed red right above me.

I slowly lifted my eyes to the wall and for a moment in time we just stared at each other- me and this glassy red eye encased in a claw-like socket. Long tentacles extended from the socket; most of them ended in circular saws that spun slowly and menacingly, except for one -thin and white unlike the others- that was cautiously reaching towards me. I held my breath, didn't even blink as it came down and brushed against my cheek. The short, fuzzy hairs on it prickled my skin and I fought the need to shudder- it felt like a bug crawling over my face as the parasite sensed, appraised- What is this, it probably wondered- An animal? A… human?

I knew the moment it remembered, I would be in trouble. It was now or never, the fight had to start. I lifted my eyes to it, pulling the magic off the Blizzard ring with all my strength- bad move: the moment I _thought_ the action the tentacle snapped back and the eye recoiled, the razors swinging back to launch an attack. I dived forward and rolled upon landing. The eye turned to look at me. Now I could see that it was attached to a longer, thicker tentacle that had crawled against the wall above to sneak up on me, and that it trailed back to the main body.

The parasite detached itself from the wall and lunged at me again. I zigzagged away from every strike, Mog following closely. Finally the parasite tired of that futile attack and coiled the main tentacle on the ground like a snake, raising the eye and spreading the razors out menacingly. The smell was the first thing to hit- acid and growing stronger by the second. Then the green bubbles began growing in number and I ducked away from the Poison spell that exploded on the spot moments later. Wasting no time I started up the flow of magic from the ring and raised my hand to release a Blizzaga spell right above my head- the shards of ice spiraled away from my hand and with the sword I bated them at the eye. They missed, but while the parasite dodged them I used the time to turn and run closer to the slope- Maybe there- maybe on the lower level there was a weak spot. I needed to know, needed an advantage- something!

As I ran the eye arched over me, sliding back to the center of the body. It reached the zenith of the arch and dived at me- I jumped away, but the whip-tentacle lashed out and collided against my shield with enough force to throw me aside. Disoriented, I could not stand in time and only saw the whip strike out again. A white blur dashed in front of me and swatted the tentacle away with the chalice, but the parasite reacted quickly and ensnared the bucket, pulling Mog with it. Cursing, I jumped up and rushed to reach him in time to grip the rim of the chalice. Mog, let go! I yelled as I tried to pull down, but to no avail. Somewhere in the back of my head I heard the word Blizzard and reacted without thinking- an attack- anything would do, so the magic surged from my hand onto my arm. The chalice dropped abruptly when it connected, dragging me and the tentacle to the ground. I barely registered the fact that Mog must have used a fire spell to create a Gravity one- now I managed to rip the chalice free of the parasite's grip and it was time to act.

Practically throwing the chalice to Mog I readied myself as the parasite reared back. It hurtled at a terrible speed and I dodged by inches, handing the socket a downward strike- it recovered quickly and lashed out, hitting my unprotected arm and making me stagger back. Pain did not register- instead I felt the aftershock through my body and realized that I _had_ to get rid of that damn whip.

Then the parasite rouse up and away without giving me a moment to think- but thinking was not what I had to do at that moment. I saw the parasite come sweeping down with all its weight and automatically stepped out of the way; the bones in my arm protested as I lifted the sword. In that moment I think the parasite knew what was coming, but its momentum was too much- the socket collided against the sword and was sent it flying off its trajectory.

But damn did doing that hurt! Reflexively I put a hand to my arm and knew it was bleeding. For a moment the parasite was stunned, hanging low to the ground. I cursed the fact that I had to heal myself at that moment or else I wouldn't be able to work. We recovered almost at the same time- I began to run towards it as the parasite rose up. It was not going to pull a stunt like the last again- instead the whip stroke from above, colliding against the shield. It struck again and again in a frenzy until at one moment that it coiled back I let my guard down and simply bowed out of the way, the slash swinging over my head with the sound of a blade. As it came back around I held out my left hand, catching the whip and gripping it as the force of the blow almost swept me off my feet. The whip snared my arm and tried to lift me up but I held on and pulled down with all my body- then I lifted the sword and twisting the shield to protect my arm I hacked at the tentacle- almost missed first but the second strike connected- and the third and the fourth and the fifth, the flesh coming apart. The parasite's death-grip on my arm lessened as it was now struggling to preserve its limb. In the end it was the struggle what tore the thing apart.

I fell back and the parasite flew away to cling to a wall. It stayed still and watched as I got rid of the disembodied tentacle. We stared at each other once again. The socket was pulsing in pain; the whole chamber trembled with it. Risking taking my attention off the parasite I kneeled down to feel the earth. Yes, there it was: the pulse coming from the body had quickened and strengthened as well.

The parasite moved and I startled back to attention, but all it did was slither away and retreat into the body.

After the initial scare, I sighed. Although wary, for a moment I had the chance to consider the circumstances: I'd imagined there'd be a weak spot somewhere, but seeing how hurting the eye had quickened the heartbeat- the _soundless_ heartbeat- made me reconsider. This thing was not of this world. I had thought the parasite's core was inside; surely something this large would need a big core- but if that eye was the real core then…all I needed to stop miasma was to kill it. Really? I wondered; something so small controlled the whole world?

For a fraction of a second I reminded myself that I was wrong- there were higher beings pulling the strings- demons and Ladies who had not yet showed themselves yet. But I shook my head; for the moment, they were not my concern.

I healed myself and prepared to go into the lower level. The parasite was obviously trying to lead me into a trap, but I had to follow if I wanted to kill it.

.

The parasite's body was barely contained inside the lower level; chubby, pointy tentacles wriggled incessantly around a massive central structure that resembled a clam. The Parasite Core was nowhere to be seen, but my sight was quickly drawn to the far end of the chamber: another slope. Damn.

Little square flaps started moving over the clam's opening and the parasite core slithered out. It stuck to the ceiling and watched me. I gripped the hilt of the sword and charged forward, ready with a strategy to bring it down.

Only that my feet landed on extremely hot earth, making me jump to the side at the last minute. The spot exploded moments later, the shockwave sending me on my back again. Gritting my teeth and glaring at the parasite core I saw how the remaining razors around it lit up and immediately felt the floor heating up again. Though I jumped to my feet and sprinted, I was too close- the shock sent me skidding on the ground face-first.

Spitting rubble I stood up as quickly as I could and dashed for the parasite; I heard an explosion behind me and knew I had only seconds to work a Gravity spell before it attacked again.

The spell activated. It didn't connect. Stunned I realized that the parasite was not affected by it- what Mog had pulled down earlier had been the chalice.

The heat rose back up. I looked down; a red circle was beginning to scorch the ground. In the time it took it to charge up I'd stepped away from its range and fired a Soulshot at the parasite, hitting it dead center. It bounced against the ceiling and almost fell to the ground, but it caught itself and the tentacle dragged the core away. With one last look at the person who was chasing after it the parasite disappeared into its body again.

Blue lights began blinking from inside the dark slit and the flaps writhed frantically. I skidded to a halt. The first thing in my field of vision were two mounds of earth in front of the parasite; without thinking I rushed to the closest one, diving forward and colliding against it. Everything went white as a high-pitched sound pierce my ears; it came and went in a matter of instants. When all was over I opened my eyes to try and see just what the hell…

Deep cuts had appeared on the ground, smoking from the edges. The same thing had happened to the stone columns on the far end of the chamber and several stalactites had been cut and fallen.

My heart felt like it was in my throat and my mind was reeling: if a group- bound by a chalice- not everyone could have avoided that. Mog had flown _up_, out of range. There was no reason to think about this now- it was no time to panic! But fear gripped my mind as I thought about how people had seen their comrades fall to that attack, how someone's corpse would look after it- how I- how _they_ might've-

My breathing was ragged, barely controlled. I wanted to run, wanted to kill. Out of the corned of my eye I saw the parasite slither out and spot me. I looked the other way, to the slope. Something snapped, and I made a run for it.

Stumbling over the rocky ramp I was mindful enough to heal Mog and myself up and activate an ice Spellblade. On the way down I stumbled and scrapped, sticking to the wall so the stubby tentacles couldn't reach me; I had no idea where I was going, but it was better than in the range of that previous attack. The path ran deeper into the ground, longer than the first descent, until we reached a similar chamber to the last one.

This was the last part; here the parasite had its roots: massive trunks that buried into the ground and walls. Framed between the trunks in the dead center was a strange, circular opening like a bulb, surrounded by much smaller ones that writhed frantically.

The opening unfolded and out came the parasite core, wasting no time and spreading the razors to cast the heat attack again. I ran away from it, sticking close to the edges of the chamber. Another heat attack began rising close to me and I moved again. The heat abruptly subsided and appeared closer to my new position. With no other option I separated from the edge of the chamber to be able to have more maneuvering space. Once again I planned to dodge the attack and try for a chance to fire an ice-strike at the parasite core, but it saw through my plan and instead continued herding me to the center.

I was on the last of my nerves when the parasite finally stopped and quickly arched over me to attack from behind; I spun around and struck with the sword- it hit something but not hard enough to stop the parasite, who dodged to my left and took a jab, then to the right and then the front; I was too busy blocking to do anything else.

Suddenly the parasite stopped and arched away from me, diving back into the center bulb. I turned in time to see the tips of the smaller openings light up. There was nowhere to take cover- Run! I yelled to Mog, lifted my shield and began dashing to the side. Something pelted against the shield and in and instant the sound of projectiles being fired and hitting the ground everywhere filled the chamber.

I thought I was going to make it- reach the other end of the chamber- but a terrible pain struck me and I toppled over, dropping the sword. In a blur I saw how my leg was bleeding profusely before another projectile pierced my unprotected flank. I curled up, trying to cover my head, but in a moment everything had fallen silent and the attack had ended.

Damn, damn, damn! I kept repeating. I knew I was losing blood, and a cure spell was not going to dislodge whatever had struck me- I could _feel_ the things inside, or at least I think I did. My body was becoming unresponsive, shaking uncontrollably. I wasn't going to make it, unless….

Mog was flying over me, yelling for me to cure myself. With an unsteady hand I reached for the thing always inside a pocket in my coat; I hated those things, the Phoenix Downs, hated that it came to using them, afraid that they wouldn't come into effect- so I reached to grab it, to hold on and will it to work.

Then the heat started to rise. There was only time enough to yell to Mog to escape. When my fingers touched the soft strings of feather so close to my heart, everything ended.

xXx

There was someone there, waiting. We were nowhere- this didn't happen anywhere, it is only a pure memory. I did not feel or see the hand against my skin, only knew it was happening; someone was clasping the hand in which I held the Phoenix Down in their own.

"_I can make it work,"_

It was her.

"_Or I can stop it from doing so,"_

She was referring to the feather. She squeezed my hand and said, _"The choice is yours."_

…Why?

This memory is so heavy. Not my own feeling, but hers. She was sad, torn with doubt. It was easy to tell when everything was so bare and raw.

"_Because perhaps you would prefer to stop. Death will not be unkind to you. You… won't remember."_

It pained her to say it, and in my mind- in that place, I knew it was because my memories would be stolen from me. This idea jolted me a little, anger surfacing dimly. I did not want to stop, to accept defeat when I'd fallen so stupidly. It was wrong, and I told her so.

"_Do you really want to continue? I must know, for should you choose to go back, I can give you strength enough to withstand the fight. But even then…it will only get worse from here on out."_

This made me pause- She _was_ a goddess, but her presence was not strange to me- it was as if she was an old friend come to offer a helping hand. But the other…

Raem was not going to kill me; he would not allow her that relief, she explained. Much less would he let me kill the parasite, because the two were so intertwined that sometimes she didn't know where one ended and the other began. Perhaps there'd never been a division at all.

"_In this…quest you undertook there has always been more at stake than miasma. There just wasn't any way you could know Raem's very being is dangerous to the order of things. Make no mistake, you have potential, but I don't want to choose for you. I can't bear to do that again…"_

In some way I stood up, standing at her level. Hesitating for a moment, I asked, So, you do believe I could kill him?

She hesitated. _"There are…ways to kill a god, yes. Specially one like Raem, though it is… a delicate matter."_ She fell silent then, unsure if I should hear more than that for now but wanting to say it.

The memory then began to feel…not-hopeless. I knew that was how I was supposed to feel, and even thought hope was _not_ there, there was a small ray of something that said that maybe, just maybe…

Can't you help me? Fight him, I mean, I asked, because I knew she was feeling exactly the same.

Silence. And then, _"Only if you help yourself first."_

xXx

My body stood up on its own, lifted by the burst of light that surrounded me. Mog let out a gasp of relief. The parasite was nowhere to be seen, but Mog warned that it may just be behind the opening. Kneeling down as I healed myself better, I told him in a hushed voice that at the end of this fight he must run away no matter what; no time to explain why. He did not question it, so I wasn't sure whether he'd do as I said or not- but I trusted he'd make the right choice. Gods, I hoped he did.

I reached for my sword; the spell blade was oddly easy to reactivate. As I rose up, the parasite came out of the opening once again.

I spun around and the Ice-strike hit its mark, catching the parasite by surprise long enough for me to conjure a Blizzara spell onto the opening. The whole tentacle shivered, the parasite core recoiled and I dashed forward, slicing at the air and sending another Ice-strike at the opening; I was going to freeze it shut. It seemed to realize this and tried to slide back in the hole, but out of nowhere Mog crashed the chalice against the eye, flinging it away.

It was time to take a chance- as the parasite was busy dodging Mog's blows I followed the chalice's circle of protection and lifted up the sword, forcing all the magic strength into it. When the blade sliced down, a Blizzaga spell exploded all over the room, smearing the walls and ceiling with ice and sealing the opening completely.

I commanded Mog to stop attacking; hurt, the parasite was hanging half-stuck out of its hole. It struggled against its bindings, but soon another Ice-strike had missed the eye by inches, instead catching a razor and snapping it clean off. The eye rose out of reach and started to conjure another heat attack. Bad idea; I simply sidestepped it and used the time to charge another Blizzaga.

The force of the hit made the parasite fall. The tentacle caught itself at the last minute, but it could not lift itself away- I landed a hit on the eye strong enough to fling it away. The razors tried to cover the eye, but I hacked away at them until they were uselessly hanging at the sides of the eye and all the parasite could do was try to dodge. The socket was pulsing uncontrollably and the whole chamber was shaking with each beat.

The parasite dodged wrong and my sword slashed at the glass sphere- a new crack appeared. Another hit and the web of cracks spread wider.

With a downward strike the parasite was finally downed; it crashed against the floor, the sphere about to break entirely. The socket tried to crawl away but it was too slow; I stepped in front of it, holding the sword aloft. Mog had dropped the chalice; it was about to be over. The parasite looked up at me, shivering frantically before the sword swung down.

_"STOP!"_

The voice shook the whole room. A burst of light came from the chalice and engulfed everything, erasing the chamber away.

.

I was sinking into a deep, still ocean. The surface of the water glimmered in the sun; bubbles of air floated up peacefully to where the rays of light broke through. I was right below the sun, standing on a bright spot of… not sand, not what should be at the bottom of the sea or a river, because for as much as blue nothingness extended in every direction, this was not water: I could breathe, I was dry, and the floor I stood on was solid. It sounded like glass when I took a tentative step.

Deformed figures loomed just out of the reach of the light, some closers than others. But even the ones farthest away I recognized- if I focused they gained shapes and color, becoming monoliths of places I knew; circular platforms and pieces of the old cocoons represented Mag Mell, and on the other side was a part of Veo Lu Sluice. Tida was there too. It's shape made me pause; it was barely more than a cluster of rotting plants and fungi, but growing from it there was a lurking shape, like the face of an Antlion-esque monster with hollow eyes and jaws wide open.

Suddenly a hum resonated behind me and I spun around to see a circle shine on the floor- from it a blossom emerged and the petals bloomed to reveal a being of pure light. It descended, stopping inches from the floor; the reflection right below it was that of a woman, but I could see the outlines of a body through the brightness of her form on this side of the glass.

Of course it was her again, but it surprised me… the her on the reflection looked so normal, like someone you'd see on the street.

She beckoned me closer.

"_Do you know where you are?"_

I felt like I should, like this was somewhere I'd been once, a long time ago.

"_This is the Nest of Memories, where all memories eventually pass through to return to the Crystal. I'm sorry; you shouldn't be here. You still have many memories yet to spin…"_

Again she was doubting. It was not as clear as before, but her emotions still seeped through to me, and it seemed like she was scared of the choice I had made.

But it had been my choice, so in a way I was meant to be there. She looked up again. _"In a way, yes, but it was Raem who pulled you here; this is where he and I reside, and he means to end you. I simply snatched you away to this little corner of yours- what you see here are your own memories, the way you see things in your mind, compacted but whole."_

I glanced at Tida's monster. She continued. _"You are safe here for the moment."_

It ought to be true- the rush of the previous fight had vanished completely; I was calm, not tired. I rubbed my cheek, expecting blood to smear on my fingers, but it was clean- all the wounds and pain had disappeared. Was I dead or something? Was this like the stories where I was in one place and my body back in the real world?

No, she explained; I really was there in that other world, body, shield and sword, like many others before me.

I quickly interrupted her and said, I trust you, but there's something I don't get: you said you would help me, but did you offer the same to the others before me? I wasn't thinking it through, and maybe it's too late to bother thinking about it, but you're a goddess, for- for the gods sake! You defeated Raem once! Did the others fail even with your help?

She lowered her head. _"It's not that simple."_

First, she was what was binding Raem to their realm; she was using most of her power to hold her grip over him. And second, I had to remember what she'd said to me before I so eagerly made my choice: _I_ had to help myself.

It was never the same when someone came to face the Meteor Parasite. Some had been in over their heads from the start, others had met with bad luck or been overwhelmed. Some didn't hear her when she reached out to them, and some… and some…

She began to explain: she subsisted on a tiny amount of memories, as was her reason of existence, but Raem…

As if on cue another hum ran through the space and two red lines began drawing symbols in mid-air- a black shield materialized behind them and from them a black mass of flesh grew with stubby legs and a long lump for an arm.

"_No!"_She gasped and I immediately raised sword and shield. _"How could Raem's minions have come so far!"_

My heart pounded against my chest as I stood my ground. She was telling me to run. No, I said; it's just a monster; I can kill it- but I won't move until you trust I can do it!

The thing was coming closer and I was struggling to stand still. Suddenly she appeared behind me, over my shoulder and whispered in my ear: Use your memories. You must hold on to your brightest ones and let your desire to make new ones burn true, to give you strength to withstand!

With that I planted a foot ahead, lifting the sword, the power of the Blizzard ring surging forth. When the blade came down the Blizzaga spell exploded right between the minions- the ice shards buried in their skin, their feet freezing to the floor, stopping them. After a Blizzara spell they fell and evaporated in a cloud of black smoke.

I felt her hands on my shoulders and again sensed that twinge of fear emanating from her. But I also felt a calmness that had not been there before.

She asked me to turn around and spoke, _"Boy of winter, I am going to tell you a truth: Humans are wrought of memories. Were it not for them you would all be transient and meaningless, because the world neither forgives nor remembers. Do you think winter cared about the day you were born? No; but your mother did- oh, she did, and your father too, and eventually so did your love and your friends. Everything shall eventually be forgotten, but memories live on in people, and that gives life to them in turn. They are power, and they belong to you."_

She only reigned over the place memories resided; it was a human the one who could wield the immense power they had here. It was just that few could do it right, and fewer had ever become aware of the fact. Hurdy and Leon never knew, and they had had so few memories that when Raem ate them he was dissatisfied. They'd been unprepared and unwilling to listen, no matter how much she tried to reach out to them.

"_But I remember what you first said to me- that you wouldn't let go of the people you loved, yet you were willing to fight for them. You've always been willing to, even if it means hurting them or doing it alone. You are__only_ _my latest hope, we both know that, but we both want the world to return to its natural course, so… will you make the same choice one last time?"_

Ironically enough, I don't remember anything else but my answer. No racing of the heart, no reasoning, no doubts or rising sense of anything- only a Yes. Yes, I would.

Later on I would reason that either way, fighting a fair fight or not, Raem would get to me. I did not know how, but it seemed inevitable anyway- I'd angered a demon, he would not let me go. But there was little time to think about that- she had flown away from me to the far edge of the light and spread her arms forward.

_"__Behold, the Door of Recollection!" _She exclaimed and the light on her hands spread, causing chimes to sound throughout the void and a door to appear close by. It looked welcoming and ouster at the same time; an iron lantern hinged on the frame and vines creeped up its base. "_Behold, the Key of Remembrance!" _A light shone in her hands.

She explained that stepping through the door would lead me further and further into the Nest of Memories, away from the safeness of my own mind and into Raem's territory. Unlocking it depended on how I handled my memories: she would ask me a question about things long past and should I answer correctly the door would open and the power of my memories would grow. But should I make a mistake the faded memory would mutate into a monster and turn against me.

It started simply enough: Which caravan was the first you ever met on the road?

Alfitaria's; they were going to rest in Tipa before setting sail to the desert.

Yes, that's right! She cheered. The door creaked open and she floated to it to guide me through. Beyond the door there seemed to be nothing but the same blue void; upon stepping into the other side the monoliths shifted further away and some disappeared. I felt normal in body, except for a sudden lightness.

Another door appeared; she asked another question, this time about my very first year. I answered correctly and she looked proud for a moment.

The further we went in the more the lightness in me increased. The only way I could think to describe is as if…as if years were being lifted off my shoulders; I always knew that time weighed, just hadn't had the chance to feel exactly how much- it was a lot. Along with this strange relief, her doubts were growing weaker. For ages she'd seen people fail at this task because of all kinds of reasons, but her hope was creeping back in. In the back of my mind I wondered if she was setting herself up for disappointment, yet the rest of me considered her happiness an extra blessing.

Somewhere close to the end she asked something; I do not remember what, or what my answer was, only that I'd been so sure I'd gotten it right that I began to step ahead before I heard her gasp, _"No…"_

As I realized my answer had been wrong the minion's shield began to draw itself in the air before me. But this was not like before: the green lines towered over me as large and wide as a house. Soon the formless being materialized and began advancing towards me- I kept cursing myself as I backed away and she was yelling for me to fight back- that with the power I'd gathered so far I could defeat that beast!

And you know what? I knew I could. I put distance enough to charge up a Blizzaga spell that did not take too much effort to cast. It froze the monster to the ground and a second attack was enough to make it topple over and disappear.

The fright faded and what was left in me was an odd sort of regret- that of knowing you've lost something but because you don't know what it was you can't feel truly sad, just confused. I stopped for a moment even though the door had opened; looking at the hand that held the sword, I realized I was shaking.

Her soothing presence appeared besides me. _"I know how you feel," _she said. My frustration ebbed down, but it was promptly replaced by a crushing sadness- now I understood how Hurdy and Leon must have felt all along.

Knowing something had been there, that you should remember it but no matter how hard you tried it would never come back, was worse than I'd imagined. What if it'd been something you held dear? A friend? An event that had defined you? You would never know. One little memory was bad enough, but your whole self… they must have thought they were a failure, not entirely human. Everyone else had names and homes, knew where they were standing and how they'd gotten there- had the things that make people whole. Leon and Hurdy woke up one day and had none of that.

She remained silent. When I took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to collect myself, she spoke, _"You see how important memories are? How they make or break a person?"_

I nodded.

"_I think- no, I sense that you have a good balance- your memories are not weighing you down, nor are you too eager to leave them behind. Please trust yourself in this; despite this setback, you've gathered so much power. Hang on a little longer."_

And with that she guided me through the door. Something occurred to me once we were on the other side, and I asked her: Is that the reason why you eat memories too? To keep that balance in people?

It took her by surprise, but she nodded. _"All memories are eventually forgotten- I nibble on them so that they may nourish me and return to the Crystal, for I am bound to it as every god is."_

The gods…. I looked back at her, tilting my head and wondering: We remember the gods; we know their name, what they reign over and we still give them tribute. But her- she was a legend, barely whispered among the people. How could have we forgotten the goddess of memories?

She observed me. _"Raem disrupted the natural flow of things because that's what he was born to do; he was meant to always be at odds with me- to keep him here I cannot leave either, so in a way he's succeeded: I've lost contact with the world. The most I can do now is make sure the myrrh trees are replenished." _It is now that I notice that her light was dimmer than before; she looked weak. Then she leaned closer, whispering, _"But because you asked: I am Mio, Queen of Reflection."_

Mio, I mouthed. Such a nice name, was all I dimly thought.

Finally I decided I was ready for the next question. And so she asked, When was the first… well, that one's private.

After crossing I once again noticed that her glow had gotten dimmer- she told me not to worry, it was only because the power of my memories was outshining her. And that was a good thing- we were very close to Raem now.

I did not feel any regret about going through with this, probably because it was very clear I'd passed the point of no return. This really, truly, was just an end, and there was very little to do about it. I could only move forward.

xXx

On the other side of the door the ocean-void disappeared, morphing into an empty land engulfed in a coppery light. A bright light still shone from above, but also came through long cathedral windows that circled around a large space. Gold and silver dust swirled all around, and below the glass floor gigantic shards of glass pointed downwards to the little speck of light that was where we'd been just moments ago.

"_Here he comes,"_Mio announced. Wait! I called. Black smoke had begun to appear in the distance across from us. Will this do? I asked, extending my sword to her; she had to answer now- something was forming out of the smoke.

"_Now it will." S_he reassured me.

Behind her a being of gold, blue and red had materialized. He stared us down.

Compared to her, his form was magnificent- the stuff of legends. Wing-like limbs spanned meters besides the form of a bird-dragon clad in golden armor. Aquamarine gems were encrusted in its chest plate and shoulders. Bristles that looked like feathers sprung from the wings and from the ridge on his back, and a long tail extended behind him.

Suddenly a barrier surrounded me. Mio had conjured it; she floated right in front of me, her arms spread to further shield me from Raem.

Raem's voice matched everything about him. _"Why, if it isn't Lady Mio," _he mocked, rising up and spreading his wings as if a king upon his throne. _"I see you've brought a mortal to this realm. Again. Another try to get rid of me?"_

"_He's not_my_try, you know that_." Mio countered gently but firmly. "_Mortals come here to face you because they want to fix their world. If only you could understand that none of this would have to happen if you only ate a few memories and returned them as dew. I've offered you so many chances of working together, and yet you-__"_

"_I have no interest in peace nor the memories it produces. I was raised on miasma, nourished by it; I thrive on sorrow and despair. The more hurt, the better for me." _Mio nearly spoke again, but Raem cut her off. "_Every time they come here, you suffer. You watch them be foolish and waste their memories or treat them without respect. The last two were the worst. And yet you keep aiding them. They brought all this upon themselves, they deserve no pity!"_

Any doubts she had had before had vanished. "I _am a god. I am responsible."_

Her words hit a chord; Raem's feather-bristles rustled and tension grew. I couldn't be sure, but I think she'd meant to remind him he was not a god… at least not a real one. Things that she'd said before sprung in my mind- that Raem had been born to oppose her, that he was a danger to nature itself, that he did not understand- yet she'd never explained why-

"_You're as foolish as they are."_Suddenly his attention shifted and he leaned forward. Now he was addressing me. _"Relying on memories to validate your existence- pathetic. It's self-containment, the only thing keeping you from accepting that the world would go on without you and not notice; that there are bigger things out there than you and that you are insignificant. Miasma? Me? We were only means for you humans to try to gain power in a realm that never belonged to you. If what my existence boils down to leaving you to face your folly, then I relish it."_

"_That is enough! You're talking nonsense, please stop it!"_

Raem began to rise. "_Why? We will fight either way; he will try to _kill _me-"_

Mio's hands fell limp at her sides.

"_I want him to know all this so that it is the last thing he remembers. Know, fool, that someday I will break out of this cage; I will overtake your Lady, and I will do as I please with the world. Your memories will only give me more power."_

Mio stayed still for a time until she took a deep breath. With a burst of light she disappeared from in front of me and appeared right before Raem. _"You will _never _touch his memories,"_ She stated. _"They burn too brightly even for you."_

"_Is that so? Then I hunger for them all the more!"_

"_Not this time!"_

The change in power was sudden and clear. Mio rushed back to my side, pressing her hands against the barrier and speaking quickly. _"He's spoken the truth, I do no deny it. I may not have explained everything, but this is your fight and you can do it!"_

"_Fool!" _Raem's voice thundered and cracks began to appear across the barrier.

"_One hit! It can be done-!" _Her words were drowned by a scream of pain as an invisible force slammed her against the ground.

The barrier shattered.

For a moment I stood looking down at the Lady's trembling form, the last thing she'd said beginning to register. She could not get up and Raem was about to launch an attack. I looked up at him, reared back, holding sword and shield up- and leapt over Mio's body to run towards the demon.

His form grew and grew the closer I got; he extended his wings and the claws opened to shoot a pair of glowing red spheres that homed in on me. I kept running towards them and at the last second jumped and slid on the glass floor, the spheres missing me by inches. They turned on their trajectory, trying to follow me, but I was going too fast and they dispersed.

Using my knee and shield to stop, I stood up. I was right below the demon's body, but before I could come up with a way to take a stab at it the tail came brushing pass too close, forcing me to move out of the way.

A blue spot appeared to my left and began lumbering towards me with unsettling speed. Damn, another minion! I thought as I rushed to attack it. Another figure appeared in the corner of my field of vision and soon another, bigger minion was making its way towards me. Pushing my speed I reached the small blue one and attacked with enough force to stagger it back; a sideways swat and its defense was thrown off, allowing me to kill it off. But just as soon as that was done the bigger red one was onto me, swinging the massive lump of an arm and bludgeoning me on the side. I backed away with it trailing closely, and I was about to lift my shield to ram against the enemy when a wide circle of light began to shine on the floor beneath my feet. I ran; the minion followed. I had only just stepped outside of the radius when I spun around and threw myself shield-first against the minion, shoving it back into the light. As I frantically backed away a column of light shot up from the center of the circle.

When I opened my eyes there was nothing left of the creature.

With odd calmness I looked up at Raem as I steadied my breathing. It must have seemed defiant, mocking, and oh it must have enraged him- I knew how I must look: one little runt running around and trying to avoid getting hit. But in that brief moment I was assessing the giant bird-dragon's form, thinking about Mio's last words: one hit. It could be done. There _was_ a weak spot.

"_What do you think you can accomplish? You alone, when others have come in groups and failed even together?" _Raem mocked, but I wasn't about to answer. I was not going to speak to him. With a roar he extended a claw towards me. It was surprisingly slow; I ran out of its way and it scratched along the glass. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a puff of black smoke in the distance and knew that another minion was appearing, but there was a way to deal with him and finally hurt Raem.

This was the test of fire- if I could do significant damage then I'd have the security that I really, _really_ had a chance. So I ran- I ran towards Raem and even though he swooped his claws towards me I covered my head and kept going. Despite his words, I knew I had an advantage: I was quicker, I was smaller.

The minion was approaching from the flank- another small one that moved quicker than the others, but as it closed in I conjured a flamestrike and thrust the sword forward. The fire Soulshot exploded over the minion's shield, sending it flying it back. And then I was going for the big one; spinning around and facing Raem's already turning form, I charged up another flamestrike- and held it. Going down on one knee and placing the sword on the shield I waited until Raem's wing swept above me to reveal his head.

It was the most obvious target. I had to try. Just as he reared back and two needles on his shoulders lit up and pointed at me, I fired.

If the previous shot had been strong, this one blew up like a firework, sending spires of fire in every direction and throwing Raem's head back. His whole form downed, the claws colliding against the ground to support his weight and stop him from completely falling. I wasn't about to stay there and wait for a counterattack, so I got up and ran away without looking back. Something huge moved to my side and above- a wing arched and came down, clawing at the floor as Raem pulled himself to chase after me. The other wing sprang forward as I pushed my speed to get away from him; I looked back and immediately cursed not doing it sooner- a blue sphere was hurtling towards me and there was no way to avoid it. I jumped, spun around- the attack hit the shield and I landed wrong, hitting my head on the floor. But the worse was the absolute cold- the numbing, mind-blinding sensation of ice magic ran through my body and into my bones, freezing me to the ground.

The sword had been flung away; I clawed at the ice to try to free myself, but Raem's claws fell at either side of me and he towered above, arching his scorched head back and the needles on his shoulders pointed at me and lit up and- oh damn, that's where that circle of light from before had come from.

But as the light intensified something yanked at my arm and clothes and pulled with enough strength to shatter the ice and drag me away from the attack. I rolled out of the way as the column of light rouse up again, and looked around in shock to see that Mio was hovering above me.

How…? I mouthed, but she shook her head. Her glow was very faint.

Raem had paused for a moment. _"This is new,"_ he muttered, and for once he seemed truly surprised. _"Did you take pity on him? Have you forgone hope so much that you put your existence in peril to aid a human?"_

Mio shook her head again, looking at me. She did not speak, but I had never felt like I had to protect someone as much as I did at that moment. She was so weak, and in the same way I had felt her doubts and hope I understood that she had done something she was not supposed to.

I sprang forward, crawling to my feet and rushing for the sword as Raem called to Mio, _"I won't let him go, and you've sealed your fate."_

Upon reaching the sword and turning around I saw how Raem pushed Mio away and came for me.

And at that moment I had no clue if the plan that was barely forming in my mind would work, but it was no time to think. Lady Mio had allowed me to control power over memories and damn well I was gonna use it. So I spread my arms wide, the fire magicite in a pocket at my right side and the Blizzard ring on the other hand; the elemental magic began linking itself in front of me as Raem approached with his head lowered to attack.

The Graviga spell took Raem by surprise- he roared in anger as the spell hammered him against the ground and he skidded to a halt. I'd backed away from the giant, but once he hit the ground I darted forward, ready to bury the sword in his skull- then Raem began to rise. The spell did not work properly on him. Should have figured, but there was no time to back down- I was almost trapped in his range, there was only forward to go.

So I leapt. By sheer dumb luck my foot landed on his head and I managed to run the length of the neck and collide against a large crest that grew at its base. Realizing what had happened, Raem shook his head violently. I held on precariously- I was so close, I couldn't fall. Something drastic had to be done; for the first time in years I unhooked the shield and let go of it. Now with a freer hand I held on to a ridge as Raem gained speed and height to then dive down- I shut my eyes as vertigo gripped me, but Raem wasn't going to crash against the ground, and that moment would me my chance.

Raem saved the dive at the last second, soaring through the air due to the momentum of the fall. I shoved myself away from my safe spot and kept low to the neck, holding onto the knobs and crevices in the armor with one hand and holding the sword up with the other, inching closer and closer. Suddenly Raem shock his head again, but my feet were firmly planted on two edges at either side and I grabbed onto another, seeing my chance.

When the head came up I let go and gripped the sword in both hands, holding it over my head together with another Gravity spell. Lunging forward with all the weight of my body and gravity propelling me the sword pushed through the golden armor and buried deep.

Raem's screech of pain seared my ears; I tried to hold on to the hilt of the sword but he was trashing too violently and I was flung away. One of the wings caught me and lessened my crash-landing. I rolled several feet away and only had strength to lift my upper body and see what was happening: Raem was trashing and yelling, hovering low with his wings almost grounded and surrounded by a purple haze.

Lady Mio lay a few meters away from me, weaker than ever. I hefted myself up and ran to her.

"_You…" _Raem's shuddering voice resonated through the void as I crouched down besides the Lady. _"How could a runt like you fell the great Raem?"_

Lady Mio lay on her side, her light flickering feebly. She pushed my hands away, and trying to get up, she whispered, _"Raem…"_

The purple smoke was intensifying its grip on the demon's body; for a moment I thought he would disintegrate, but Raem was holding on tightly to what little strength he had left.

"_Miasma will fade away now… the Parasite will die. But…you won't perish with it."_

What! I yelled. She paid me no mind. _"Please, believe me…"_

Raem retaliated. _"I will not fade!" _He roared and reached towards Mio. A sudden force shoved me back and the whole chamber came alive - the golden dust swirled towards the two deities and a thunderous sound drowned everything. Mio was being lifted off the ground, encased in a bleak sphere. Points of light concentrated towards them as they rouse up in the air. Raem kept yelling, _"I don't want to fade! Mio, I will not fade, even if I must posses you!"_

This was the moment I broke; I started yelling too over his crazed words- to let her go, stop it! He was done for- stop fighting it already! My blood was running cold, because dammit this was supposed to _end!_

The golden dust was blurring everything, the points of light multiplying by the thousands as Raem brought Mio closer and I could do nothing but watch.

"_Mio…" _his voice resonated through everything, _"Don't…let…me…fade."_

I couldn't even yell anymore; the terror and sorrow in his voice was almost unbearable. What was going to happen now? With dust and light almost covering them completely they were disappearing and I hadn't even…the sword was still up there…what was I gonna…?

Suddenly, as everything was swirling towards them they _both_ faded away, the glowing points dancing where they'd once been and the dust dispersing.

Absolute silence reigned, but a glinting object was falling to the ground- the sword!

As I began to run towards it, everything shattered.

.

Time didn't exist anymore; it'd be wrong to say I don't know how much of it passed, because though it felt like it did, it didn't. The next thing I knew was that I was laying on a cool surface, surrounded by mist and looking at the sky. It was covered with the purest white clouds and it was incredibly bright. But it was bleeding. Literally, the clouds were dripping down from the sky, cascading over to the horizon.

I sat up and my breath left me. What was in my peripheral vision was nothing compared to what was in front: a gigantic blue sphere splattered with big patches of yellow-green and scattered white clouds floating on the surface. I knew what it was; there was no way to confirm it but…but it is something that's always _there_- the knowledge that you are a tiny thing standing on an immeasurable vastness. That's the world, isn't it? I whispered to no one in particular, sitting still because my legs were too weak to stand up.

I was not sure I was dead. For one, I still _cared_- about my own insignificance, the state of my body, about what'd happened to Mio and what would happen next; and the sword was sticking off the ground a few feet ahead. But I'd never died before, so I couldn't be sure.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and stood up. There was little else to do but wait and see what had happened. I walked to the sword and picked it up in the vague hope that it could still help me.

Suddenly a loud noise filled the air. A bright light shone from above and I spun to see that a huge ring of light had spread across the sky, its shine intensifying until it burst and turned into a red portal. The designs on its surface extended down, and something- something _big_ began to descend. I backed away as quickly as possible, never taking my eyes off the thing. It was a sword, coming down tip-first; a claw-like opening with shards of crystal for a body was ensnared around the blade, running up to the hilt, which was more like a cap with gauntlets for arms and a blue eye at its front.

The voice that came from it was a mix of Raem and Mio's. _"I will never fade." _It said.

Oh, fuck.

No time to think- the opening of the claw began to shine and I rushed away from its aim. It shot out a stream of ice and mere seconds later the eye at the top was shinning light onto the floor and I had to move again to avoid the explosion that followed.

Knowing that I had to take my chances I readied myself to avoid any following attack and try to get to the claw, but before that could happen a strange sensation gripped my head: a sudden lightness that ended abruptly, and the next thing I see is a _bubble_ floating away from me. Immediately I tried to reach for it, but my fingers passed through the image inside the sphere- Samuel, dancing like the last time I saw him at the festival. It was a memory, playing clear in front of my eyes.

Luckily I was looking up, because one of the gauntlets suddenly came into focus and I jumped out of the way. The other one came down next- if I hadn't rolled away those last few inches it would have skewered me to the ground- I ended inside the crevice at the center of the gauntlet. Samuel's memory hovered peacefully over me. My mind raced; the- the god, the hybrid, was trying to steal it. I had to get it back.

As the gauntlet rouse back up a thought flashed in my head: the god had ripped that memory away; it used to be part of me. The thing had _hurt_ me. I threw the Cure spell out wildly, hoping for nothing- and getting something: The bubble busted and a little pink sphere fell on my chest. I grabbed it and ran. Almost immediately the strange sensation gripped my mind again and another bubble appeared- this time Korina. But now it was closely followed by another. I frantically used Cure on them and the spheres rolled away.

I could not pick them up right away- the god was attacking and I had to dodge. I still had the first sphere and knew I could not leave the others behind. Samuel's memory was warm and light, but the power that seeped from it was immense, stronger than any other magicite.

Putting the magicite in my pocket I dodged the ice stream and rushed to the two other spheres, closer to the claw. Only managed to grab one, but it would have to do. As I got closer and closer I gripped the magicite, focusing all my strength in it- it dissolved in my hand and electricity rushed through my fingers. Seeing only the claw ahead I extended my hand and let the magic go.

First with the flash of light and then the thunder, lightning rained from above; thousands of electric spears blinking in and out of existence and scorching the claw into oblivion, far too powerful to be a mere Thundaga.

Through the high whistle left ringing in my ears I pushed on, reaching the claw and lashing out at it with all my strength. The blade dug into flesh, cutting deep, severing the tip of a pincer, slashing the mouth of the opening. The claw recoiled back as if letting out a screech and then it fell, the crystal shards surrounding it following it as it plummeted through the floor and brought down the hilt of the sword.

Backing away, I saw that the eye was clearly exposed and it had homed in on me. The gauntlets at its side moved to the back, exposing two barrels from where light that wasted no time in becoming two streams of energy appeared. Having jumped out of the way I watched them pierce the air, sure that one single hit from that would destroy me. Yet those turrets were protecting the eye, and there was no option but to get in the line of fire.

Zizaging to avoid the next attacks I closed in on the eye. Once close enough I thrust my hand forward to launch the magic attack. Something activated, but nothing happened.

Backpedaling immediately I turned and ran for the last magicite, looking behind my back for the next attack. Managing to dodge two other beams I finally reached the magicite and turned around again. But in the nano-seconds that I wasn't watching, a ball of purple light had formed in front of the eye and then it shot at me.

For a moment all I saw was black; all I heard was the beating of my heart. Then suddenly my vision returned and I knew I was completely and miraculously alive, with the last remaining magicite in my hand. I was paralyzed with shock, but the attack had hit and nothing had happened- would have made me suspicious if it wasn't because the two-beam attack followed and passed harmlessly through me too.

The last magicite- it has to be! I told myself that and did not think about it anymore. With a yell I reared back and charged at the eye. A second dark attack passed through me and I was almost there. I crushed the magicite in my hand and a gale of freezing wind was sucked towards the god to then explode in spirals of ice over the eye. But that would not be enough, I knew it, so I closed in on the eye and stabbed at it; the sword slid on the surface, but I kept attacking, set on breaking the cover.

The god lurched and then rouse up, forcing me back. Once again I was facing the claw, and it wasted no time in ripping two other memories from me. Before I got the chance to heal myself, a gauntlet came hurtling from the left and sent me flying. Realizing I was unhurt I got back up and dashed for the memories, throwing out a Cure spell that caught one of the bubbles in its range; the magicite rolled over to me while the remaining memory floated away. Now I was right in front of the claw, but knew it wouldn't hurt me; I could reach out to the remaining memory.

That was a mistake. As I extended my sword to cast the spell an incredible force hit me and the cold gripped me. Every bone ached as I hit the floor and could do nothing but lay there half-paralyzed. Moving _hurt,_ but what was happening in front of me had me frantically trying to shake the ice off and heal- the claw had opened wide, the opening sucking in a purple haze that had caught the memory in it. Regaining movement in my arms I pushed myself up, forcing my legs to react, but the magicite had rolled away- I wasn't going to make it.

I saw my memory disappear inside the claw's mouth and felt the same emptiness and anguish from before. And this time I _knew_ it had been something big.

I wanted to beat my head and force myself to remember, but then two other bubbles appeared in front of me and I snapped. The claw had started sucking again and I desperately fought the last remnants of the ice spell off. Springing to my feet I dashed forward, thrusting the sword and catching both memories in the spell. Before the claw was done trying to steal my memories, I'd picked the magicite, stashed one in my pocket and held the other up; Crushing it, another major Blizzaga storm was released, cutting the claw's actions short and disfiguring it. The next spell to hit was another lightning storm, but I did not stay to watch and instead rushed for the last remaining magicite. I grabbed it as the Claw and the crystals dropped again, bringing the eye down.

It frantically searched for me, and in seconds I was jumping out of the way of a black beam, then the blasts of light. But I was marching towards the eye, gripping the magicite tightly in my hand- whatever spell came out of it, I was going to force it to be stronger than any other and it was going to _wreck_that damn eye!

Finally close enough I consciously dragged the power out of the magicite and channeled it all towards the eye. A storm of fire exploded over it, swirling up and sucking the air with it. Taking out the last magicite I activated it again… and nothing happened.

The eye- hurt and still blazing from the burns, turned upon me again. The gauntlets readied the attack and I stood my ground. The beams shot through me and I used that as my cue to start advancing- at first a march with the sword held up in both hands, it quickly turned into a sprint and then a run. For a moment all was black; when the attack dissipated I was right in front of the eye. I reared my whole body back and then thrust all my weigh forward- the sword burst the eye's shell and buried up to my hand.

A blast of energy burst from the god. It began to rise up, the pieces of the blade and gauntlet and hilt flaking away into millions of shards as a light shone from above, straining the god until it shattered into black dust.

My heart stopped when the voice rang through the emptiness, _"Not yet. Not…"_ It never finished.

All that followed was silence; I was completely alone.

xXx

I was sitting, exhausted. The emptiness was fitting; I wasn't thinking about what had happened, not at that moment and wishing that I would never have to. Would I even return home? I wondered. In the back of my head, I somehow felt like I would just…disappear, fade away from consciousness and cease to exist. What else could happen?

The answer came in a shimmer of light in the horizon. It died away quickly and in its place an ethereal figure holding a long, dark object was left standing. It made to approach me, but it wobbled and fell to the floor. I got up and ran to her. When I got there she had stopped trying to get up and lay on her back, Excalibur at her side. She extended a hand to me and I crouched down to take it. Oddly enough she was shinning stronger than ever before; my fingers disappeared in her bright hand.

"_Now you can defeat the meteor parasite," _her voice was weak, but joy was radiating off her. _"At long last…the world can return to its proper course."_

Her strength waned and her hand slipped from mine. _"I took a gamble, you know? I wasn't supposed to help… gods aren't allowed…" _There was a long pause. _"But it doesn't matter. We won."_

As I lay her hand on her chest, she continued, even though her life dwindled with every word. _"Raem and I…will sleep for a time. But, worry not. As long as the world spins memories, someday we will be reborn. Please, promise me you'll remember…remember me from time to time."_

With the last of her strength she lifted her hands to the sky and dissolved into a blur of flower petals.

_"O keepers of the Crystal,"_

The voice resonated all around as I lost consciousness.

_"Thank you."_

* * *

*whining about taking too damn long*

I swear its not as long as the word-count says; the website decided to say it has a thousand more words than it really does just for kicks. Anyway. I like writing action, as you may hav noticed; I just hope its good enough to be entertaining. On the other hand, making Raem a good villian was difficult since I didnt even build up his character in previous chapters, so I'm kinda maybe leaving it vague (at least I think I am, or maybe it's just confusing?) for now and will expand on it later (partly in the next chapter, partly in another story I have planned that is so totally getting written I swear)_._ For now, though, I've been dying to write the last chapter of this, so I'll be getting to that.

As always, reviews are love :)


	6. The End of the Letter

**No names, just people.**

**The End of the Letter**

He was returned to the Meteor Parasite's chamber in the blink of an eye. Mog was still there, overjoyed at Thomas' return, but there was no time for celebrations; the parasite lay in a heap on the floor, writhing and barely alive. It mustered the strength to look up at the man that had stepped in front of it; it saw him stand sideways and aim the sword inches away from its eye. He was steady as the flow of magic gathered at the tip. He never looked away.

The shot fired. The sword recoiled. For the second the parasite was thrown back in the air there was complete silence- then the earth began trembling, the parasite churning and spitting ooze with a roar. Thomas grabbed Mog and the chalice and ran. As they made their way up they saw how light was seeping through cracks in the parasite's body and sparks were being sent through the roof and into the world; the parasite was about to burst.

The shockwave got them as they reached the end of the top chamber. For an instant they saw the column of light piercing the sky before a wave of dust and dirt swept over them. Thomas shielded Mog with his body and did not have the strength to move from the spot until well after the sky had cleared.

.

As he traversed the old road away from the Mount it felt as if that abyss was all that existed for him. Outside its walls was a world that wouldn't welcome him anymore- not because it didn't want to, but because it couldn't. People must have realized miasma was gone by now; they'd be celebrating the end of an era, but they weren't the ones who ended it.

As if in a dream he remembers returning to Mag Mell. The Carbuncles told him to stay for a while, to rest and let everything sink in. But they also told him he had to go back, that life must go on.

And he feared that. Time would never stop once he stepped outside the miasma stream. He'd be thrown back into the current and that place, what he'd done, would get swept away. He understood then why the Carbuncles had chosen to hide; they didn't have to worry about new things, only what they knew. But then…that meant they lived forever stuck to a single moment. Perhaps it was the time they told humans about myrrh trees, or when Raem started to hurt them; with nothing new to measure those events against, it was as if that had happened yesterday.

When the Carbuncle he'd first spoken to looked down at him with an expression that said, Is that what you want for yourself? Thomas realized he had to go.

The moment he leaves is the moment he remembers the most- the trail leading away from Mag Mell, the cold wind blowing and the chiming of its bells.

It wasn't until they'd stepped inside the miasma stream that he realized he'd left Excalibur. After considering it, he concluded that it should stay behind, because it was not the only thing he had to let go of.

Luckily the path was long and once they reached Fum he had harnessed the courage enough to face people and lie.

xXx

To say that the silence that followed when Thomas finished talking was long would be insufficient; it was also strained and uncertain. He had said so much. Maybe it was the light, but at the moment he finished he looked so worn out, as if his fears had been justified and time had rushed back onto him to age him quicker.

It was Korina who first said: "I believe you." It took a bit longer, but Mateo and Louvouz agreed too, their reason being that they knew Thomas and Thomas could never make so many things up- he'd always been a terrible liar. They began to laugh then, small and contained at first, then letting go- laughing for laughing's sake. It was at that moment that Nor Lit truly believed him. He could laugh because the world was undeniably free, and he was alive at that moment to see it.

Mateo proposed a toast: to the earth, to the now and to the new era, because no other cheer for these things had ever been truer. They all raised their glasses, but before anyone could drink, the Lilty quickly added, "Oh, and for our friend too."

For an instant, Thomas seemed about to protest, but whatever he was going to say was drowned by the loud cheers of the others, and in the end he raised his glass as high as the rest and drank it down to the last drop.

They laughed and ate and drank a lot; danced a little and separated for a moment. When the festival began to die down they moved away from it to keep talking and arguing until they were repeating themselves. The night ended at the Clavats' doorstep. Louvouz excused himself and retired to think alone; Mateo had to return to his wife and kid- by that time it was three in the morning and they may get worried. At five Korina gave up; she didn't even make it up to her bedroom and instead curled up on a sofa downstairs to sleep there, leaving her husband to fetch a blanket for her.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Thomas asked as he exited his house, looking for the only person who'd remained outside.

Nor Lit looked back at him from his spot by the edge of the river and shook his head. "There are too many things in my mind; I couldn't sleep if I wanted."

Thomas sighed. "Same here."

The Selkie motioned him to come over, so Thomas sat on the rock besides him. Nor Lit still had half a jug of ale with him; he picked up one of the glasses they'd used previously and offered Thomas a drink. At first he declined, but he ended up accepting. He drank slowly. Halfway through the glass, he sighed. "I don't even like this," he said, motioning to the glass, "it just… serves a purpose."

Nor stared at him for a moment before sighing softly. The Clavat hadn't even drunk that much- he was probably just trying to keep the situation at arm's length, but not much further.

"For what it's worth," Nor said, "Thank you for telling me your story. It wasn't something I could have ever guessed, but I do believe you."

Thomas simply stared at the dark water running at their feet. "So are you ok with that?" He finally asked, catching Nor Lit by surprise.

Was he ok with the truth? He wondered. Was he ok with the fact that in the end everyone who had tried getting rid of miasma differently would have failed? That the only way to change things had been to challenge gods and demons? Nor threw his head back and let out a heavy sigh. He was facing the night sky now, the thousands of stars blinking back down at him.

"We're really, really small," he said, still looking up. "Didn't that demon say something about that? About how everything started because we hated the idea of being insignificant?"

"Yes, he did. He said the state of the world was our fault, because we tried to take control."

"Do you believe him?"

Thomas nodded. "There is no doubt in my mind that we forgot how everything truly started."

Nor nodded alongside him. "Then I believe that those who started it- whoever they were, or whatever it was, were fearful of the truth. Going by that then I don't want to fear it, much less deny it. But…" he wouldn't lie; it wouldn't be fair. "I'm not ok with it. I hate that my friend died in a way that seems in vain- I get that sometimes people make mistakes, but it was not only him, it was-"

"Everybody who ever tried," Thomas finished the sentence. Nor Lit nodded, feeling stupid because he knew Thomas had already thought all these things.

"But you know," Thomas continued, "They _tried._No matter how I feel about surviving, I don't feel sorry for them. The Black Knight, Hurdy, even your friend, they didn't want the cheer of a crowd; there was no guaranteed they'd succeed. They had their convictions and their means and they went ahead with that. That takes a lot of courage, and that's worth something."

Watching the other man, Nor Lit realized something: Thomas was not afraid of death. To him those other people hadn't failed because they'd died. They made grave mistakes, couldn't have known what path to take, but death hadn't been some kind of punishment for daring to step out of line- it had been an outcome. It was not the bigger picture; of course other people wouldn't see it that way, but then, so what? Nor Lit and the others knew the truth, and that was enough.

Pausing, Nor frowned at the thought. Glancing down, he began to doubt he could really let it go that easily. However, he decided to think about it later. Even though the festival had ended and he had gotten what he wanted, it had only made him think faster as things pieced themselves together or contradicted what he'd previously thought- it was the exhilaration of discovery. Luckily that was easier to curb than uncertainty.

"So, what are you gonna do now?" Nor searched for something else to talk about.

"You mean, from now on?" Thomas asked after a pause. Nor nodded and Thomas shrugged. "Stay here. There's not much else for me to do, is there?"

"Don't you want a family of your own?" It seemed like an innocent assumption. It wasn't until he'd said it that he realized how obvious the answer was. The image of the oddly empty room in the small house right behind him sprung in his mind, just as Thomas answered his question.

"More than anything," he said, his chest swelling slightly before his shoulders slumped and he rested his head on the palm of his hand. "It just…hasn't happened," he sighed. "I'd hoped that things would fall into line once I got home, but…"

For one, he had never imagined parting ways with Mog, yet it was the first thing to happen once they returned to the world. They made it as far as Marr's Pass when the moogle started wondering if it would be a good idea to return to Tipa. The village had never been his home- hell, he'd never had a home; the idea of settling down at the end of a road didn't seem to fit. He was strong enough to travel on his own and there was a changed world waiting for him now. He promised he'd return, but Thomas left for Tipa alone.

Thomas hesitated before continuing, gaze stuck on the water. "Then I finally get back here and it turns out that what I forgot was my sister."

Nor Lit stared. "Wha-? Oh! you mean in the- the final fight?"

Thomas nodded. "At that time it just felt like something had been ripped out of my mind, but when I had to face that something, it was worse. I didn't even realize that what I'd forgotten was staring right at me until she came towards me and start talking and _expected_ me to know her." He said, before starting to explain the scene as he approached the village as a caravanner for the last time.

There had been a lookout, a boy who'd run into the town to let everyone know he'd returned. His parents had pushed through the crowd that had gathered at the end of the bridge, but they were not the first ones to cross the old Crystal boundary. Thomas clearly recognized his youngest brother, but he didn't know the young woman who held Samuel's hand as they ran up to him. And yet she hugged Thomas tightly and cried and beckoned Christie and Arion to come quick- Mother, Papa, he's back! She said to them.

"I kinda knew who she was supposed to be- I'd read my journal and letters and… but I have still missed so much that is not coming back. There is absolutely nothing I remember about her on my own. I saw her for the first time at that moment." He let out a heavy sigh, but before Nor could speak, he continued, "And I know that it doesn't sound so terrible- as if, alright, so you don't remember your own sister but you can get to know her again. But the more I think about it, the worse it is. I think she's the reason I went to Goblin Wall in my third year- the fire on the hill, I wrote about how she saw it. The letters she wrote about wanting a world without miasma…. Fuck it, she's my family, for the gods sake! I remember more about the guy she's marrying than of her! And I hate that guy!"

Cautiously, Nor put a hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Breathe, man; breathe."

Thomas nodded, realizing his outburst. He took the opportunity to gulp down the last of his drink and carelessly put the glass away.

Nor spoke, "I don't blame you for feeling that way. Honest. I have brothers too- the idea of forgetting them is pretty terrifying." After a silence, he added, "And it's not your fault- that memory was stolen, not forgotten. Why do you beat yourself up about that?"

Thomas looked at him in confusion, as if the fact that the blame didn't lie on him hadn't occurred to him yet. Slowly his gaze drifted away, back down to the dark water. Breathing out one last time he spoke, "I don't know. I wish I could stop." He shut his eyes briefly, completely drained of energy to even worry anymore.

The sky was barely brightening by then. The night had reached its quietest moment. Nothing but the water stirred. A cold breeze rushed through the river, rustling the tree leafs; Nor Lit shivered, but Thomas only looked up, as if following the wind with his gaze. When it passed everything was still again.

"This may just be when it ends." Nor Lit said at last. Thomas stared at him, letting the idea sink in. When it completely did, a small smile appeared on his lips.

xXx

The bright, hot light that streamed through the bedroom window signaled that it was well past midday when Nor Lit woke up. He was hanging awkwardly on the hammock; his head ached and his back was sore, but he knew what he had to do: he was going to let things go.

Last night felt distant, hazy and incredible. Nor guessed this was what Thomas meant by waking up from living in a dream, and ironically, this dream had probably started the moment the Swell beyond Rebena plains occurred. Stepping outside into the sound of the town and the smell of burning wood, it seemed as if it was the first time in a while that he took a deep breath and truly felt it.

He found Thomas and Korina sitting on the chairs they'd left on their yard last night, with plates of food on their laps. Korina was way too comfortable reclined against her husband's shoulder to get up, so she just pointed back at the kitchen and told Nor Lit she'd left his plate on the table, to go get it and sit with them. At their feet they had a large jug of water, which she also told him to serve himself, because it'd help with the hangover she was sure he had.

Nor Lit joined them just as she was telling Thomas, "It's weird, I never heard Sol mention anything about meeting a preacher from Tipa, or the Black Knight for that matter."

Thomas shrugged, absentmindedly looking at the town. "He probably lost interest. Why would he mention it?"

"I dunno. Maybe he'd thought I'd know something? He really liked talking about his time as a caravanner. I wish he'd mentioned _something_, so I could have known…"

"Sol?" Nor Lit interrupted. "Sol Ratch? You knew him?" He looked curiously at Korina.

She nodded. "I lived in Alfitaria for a while. When Toto found me there he referred me to Sol Ratch, so sometimes Sol checked in on me when he came around. Oh, and when he retired he came around his parents' restaurant, which was close to where I stayed, so we used to talk."

"Ah," Nor said. "I see. I just thought that talking to the caravanners from Alfitara was difficult to do."

"You didn't talk to them?" Thomas asked. "For the- eh, your project, I mean."

"They must be really hard to reach now," Korina commented.

"Yeah. Actually, I've only spoken to the caravanners from Shella, Fum and Marr's Pass. And you," he half-shrugged.

Before he could continue, Korina spoke. "And Leuda?" She wondered, tilting her head.

Nor Lit breathed in, raising his eyebrows. "Them…. Well, I get along with them now, but we used to be kinda at odds. Well, not kinda; a lot." Seeing the looks of confusion on the Clavats' faces, he briefly explained how he and his brother were not chosen to be caravanners and how they'd behaved afterwards. "So it's a little awkward to ask about those first years and things like that. Honestly, Hana Kohl likes rubbing some stuff in our faces."

"So it's a pride thing," Korina said, and Thomas chuckled.

Nor glared at them for a second and then shrugged. "Yeah."

After a pause, Thomas added, "Could you remind them that they owe me about five thousand gil?"

"What? !" Korina exclaimed.

Nor Lit burst out laughing. Thomas explained that the pair of Selkies somehow always managed to find him when they were desperate for funds and usually running late on their quest for myrrh, and he'd never dared to risk not helping them at those moments.

"Oh, I can just see it," Korina rolled her eyes at her husband. He just chuckled.

Nor Lit could see it too, on the Selkies' end. They'd always been careless, much more interested in their own business than in Leuda's. He did not know much more about their starts, though, and suddenly the fact that he'd never bothered to ask them for dumb reasons hit him. They had gotten the job done, but how? Well, they had relied on tricks and gadgets to make their way to myrrh trees, if that time Nor had run into them at the Carthugie's Mine was anything to go by. Why had they been chosen? He knew some people had not wanted to be caravaners, others had felt it their duty and others had loved the danger; what about Dah Yis?

A strange sort of guilt surged up in him, as if he was ignoring something he absolutely had to do. Interviewing caravanners had originally started as a regular idea laced with a faint hope of finding something more. Things had shifted when he began picking traces of the truth, but that innocent idea had merit on its own. And he wasn't ready to let _that_ go.

"Hey…" Nor spoke up, catching the others' attention. He hesitated for a moment, trying to sort out his thoughts at the last minute. "I… I wonder if there's any way you could help me meet with Sol Ratch- or any of the Alfitarian caravanners,"

Korina straightened up on her chair. "It's possible, I guess I could. But…didn't you get what you were after already?" She asked, a bit of the her Nor Lit had seen yesterday returning.

"I did!" He quickly said. "And it was more than I could have hoped for. But the thing is, I've been talking to caravanners for so long that it's practically all I've done for the last year. There are pages and pages of this, ah, project, and I told so many people. I'd like to finish what I started."

Thomas was looking away. Korina seemed more concerned about him than answering Nor Lit. Finally, Thomas spoke, "I think it's a good idea."

It earned him a confused look from his wife, but Nor sighed in relief. Then the Clavat continued. "If," and the word was as sharp and swift as the slice of a sword. "You don't put anything about what I told you in that record."

Nor Lit nodded slowly. He'd already decided to let it go for a while, so why did he have to force himself to agree? "I guess I should tell you that I… I'm not going to bother you anymore."

"I'll help you get hold of Sol," Thomas stood up and picked up his and Korina's empty plate. "I'll get these inside." Nor handed his own plate when Thomas extended a hand for it. He entered the house, leaving the other two in silence.

Korina let out a heavy sigh and leaned back on her chair. "Do you really mean that?" She asked. Then she looked him in the eye. "_Can_ you mean that?"

Nor clenched his fists on top of his knees. "I don't know. I really don't." He answered sincerely.

It seemed to be enough for her. "The rest is not a bad project, I guess. Though you'll talk to Sol," she chuckled at some memory of her own. "Watch it- he's an idealist; he may not stick to the truth."

Running a hand over his head -and idly noticing that he'd forgotten to put on his bandana- Nor nodded. After a moment he stood up and went towards the bridge, saying he wanted to go for a walk. Korina simply hummed in response, and he left her squinting at a far-off spot, the sun of the afternoon making her hair glisten as she ran her fingers through it.

.

He had nothing to do for a while but think. Hooking his thumbs on his belt, Nor began to stroll up the road into the town. For the day after the festival the streets were surprisingly clean. It hadn't been a big festival, though; Tipa wasn't that big, and now that cleaning was done, it seemed to have fallen on its usual pace.

Slowly he made his way to the plaza where there were a few more people still taking down decorations and sweeping. Someone whistled and called for attention a couple of times, though Nor ignored it until curiosity beat him and he looked around to see who was calling. To his surprise it was Mateo, and he was waving him over to his house.

"Sorry, I couldn't remember your name," the Lilty said, scratching the back of his head once Nor was close.

"Nor Lit," he clarified.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that." Mateo motioned back to his house. "Do you have a minute? Let me offer something to drink, 'cause there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

A little surprised, Nor followed him inside, through the entryway where a couple of toys were strewn on the floor and then to a short corridor on the right that lead to the kitchen. The kitchen and the sitting room shared the same small space- made even more cramped by the bookcases lining the walls. As Mateo went to the pantry, Nor stood by the closest case to read some of the book spines. "So what do you want to talk about?" He wondered.

They were history books; informal accounts, official accounts, biographies, chronicles- Nor's sight stopped briefly on a thin book clearly written by a Selkie amidst all the books about the Lilty empire; close to it there was another one by a famed Yuke author.

"Oh, you know, about yesterday," Mateo said, and the books were off Nor's mind. Nor turned to see that the Lilty had put a glass of ice tea on the table for him. "I was wondering if you were going to do anything about it."

"It?" Nor asked, absentmindedly grabbing his glass by the rim. He was more concerned in trying to see what Mateo's intentions were- the question had caught him off guard, but there was no hostility in the Liltie's voice.

"It. The story. The truth," he shrugged. "How would you call it?"

"I don't know. I… don't plan on doing anything about it," he stammered. "I've asked a lot from a stranger already."

Mateo was quiet, observing him from across the table. "Don't feel guilty," he stated. Nor raised his eyebrows, and Mateo laughed lightly. "Look, I know how Thomas must feel right now- well, no, I don't really, but I can ask him and he'll tell me, and we'll figure something out from there," he paused. "There's no denying you put him on the spot he's right now-"

Shifting how his friends and family saw him, admitting to something he'd taken so much care to hide, bringing back frightening memories- Nor preferred to focus his attention on the small drops of condensation sliding down the sides of the glass.

"But you've done more good than harm."

Nor glanced up. Mateo shrugged. "Think about it. How long could that secret be kept? Would he have held on? I don't think so, I really don't. This town is small, and we're used to the way we are- since miasma ended, things changed between us, and we noticed; it's not that it was only his problem."

"But that's the thing," Nor interrupted, leaning forwards. "It's not _my_ problem. I don't-"

"Are you kidding me?" Mateo nearly laughed. "You- when- You came here looking for an answer that everyone's been after for a year, and _you found it_. The man let you hear it, you can't ignore that! He changed the world, and I think he's so far beyond realizing that this is- this everything is not only about himself that… that he doesn't know what to do. Would you? Even after a year-"

"No, I don't know. I have no freaking clue what to do about anything!" Nor blurted out so fast he spoke over Mateo. "I did find an answer, but I never thought about what would happen next. I've been thinking about it for so long, working towards it, but I didn't consider this- I was just doing it for my friend. I didn't know I was gonna learn how the world changed!"

It hadn't hit him until that moment. He was gripping his hair and had slid down the chair a little, staring wide-eyed at nowhere. It'd all been so personal until now, self-contained in the rules of the world he used to know- but that world of miasma didn't exist anymore and now he knew why. Lowering his hands to his lap, he looked up at the Lilty sitting across from him and said, "I don't know what I should do now."

Mateo waited before saying anything, his gaze leaving Nor Lit to drift towards the bookshelves. Pursing his lips, he supported his elbow on the table. "I think you should write it," he stated almost offhandedly.

"Thomas doesn't want that," Nor quickly retorted. He was dead-set on honoring that request.

"For now. But I don't think there's any danger for him if the story's known. The end of the era is going to go down in history anyway, and history is not the same as the truth. He doesn't _have_to be the person who goes down in history. His name doesn't even have to be in it, and sure, that'll make it seem like a tale, but people want to know what happened anyway- some even go out of their way to find an explanation," he smiled, staring at Nor before standing up and walking to his books. "If no one besides us knows about what he did, then that fact dies with us. If it gets out then it'll be believed or disbelieved. Maybe someday it'll be proven, someway or another- if it's there at all."

"Why don't you write it? He'd trust you more,"

Mateo looked back at him, eyebrows raised. "But you know so much more! I've barely even left this town. It makes no sense that I try."

Nor turned on his seat to look at the other, frowning slightly. "Yeah, that. Thomas mentioned something about you… having to join him once?"

Mateo nodded firmly, purposely turning back to the books. "Me and Korina were supposed to be part of the caravan, but we're a little younger so we had to wait to become of age. But when we did, well, he refused, not even to our faces. But you know, I was ok with that. By that time my father had died- disease- heart," he said, pointing at his own chest briefly. "Something no spell could cure, and my ma was alone and I'd already met Sonia, so I stayed. It took a lot longer for Korina to forgive him, though. Ah, here!" He took out a thin, grayish book with frayed edges and handed it to Nor. "Maybe it'll interest you- it's a sort-of biography of a Yuke who chronicled the Great War. He tried to achieve an unbiased account of how it started- it's very technical, almost like a manual. Frankly I didn't get some of the stuff in it."

Nor took the book, unsure of how it could help him but not minding the offer. Mateo went back to the table, sitting down and sighing. He leaned back, rubbing his forehead; now that Nor noticed, he too looked like he'd barely slept at all.

"Frankly, I don't know how things would be if we had been a caravan together." The Lilty said, his voice a little lower than usual. "I never put much stock on memories. It's pretty terrifying."

They stayed talking for a while until the Lilty's wife arrived. Nor Lit took that as a chance to excuse himself and left.

He ate at the small bakery at the miller's house and bought some things from the merchant for his family, but after that he did not feel it was right to go back to Thomas' house yet. Without his noticing evening came and went, and all he'd done was wander through the streets and a distance out of the village, alone with his thoughts- which did nothing but go in circles after a while.

As he was leaving his house, Mateo had told him that at this moment, the situation was a waiting game. There was no need to rush, except when -or if- that miasma in Rebena Plains cleared. If people crossed that line then the need for answers would grow, and people believe in events- the right time to put the truth forward would be then, when there was something concrete for people to measure it against. From then on who knew what would happen. For now, though, there was nothing for them to do but wait and bide their time.

xXx

Night is so deep, so long, that it seems as if it could hide all kinds of things if only it didn't end. When Korina watched the day sky, it didn't feel like it could last forever; day was always followed by night. But sometimes she imagined that she could will time to stop and make it stay dark forever so she wouldn't have to face consequences. It was only fitting, then, that Thomas had found she was still awake at the break of dawn. The Selkie had passed right by, gone to his room already. Thomas sat at the foot of her sofa, a small candle their only source of light.

He never asked her why she'd been crying, since he probably knew. There were things no one could keep bottled up, not without hurting themselves. Secrets meant distance, after all- between him and her and everyone else, and even if he'd confessed, there was still a year-long gap to cross now.

"I'm still myself," he insisted in a low, shaky voice. "I don't want anything…different to happen."

Korina shut her eyes tight. Before saying anything she extended a hand towards Thomas; she motioned for him to grab, and did not open her eyes until she felt his fingers between hers.

Things wouldn't be the same as before, she explained. How could they avoid change when the world itself had changed? That was so fundamental, was such a big part of him now that it was foolish to ignore. He would have to learn to live with the fact that he was not entirely his own anymore. "You know this well," she said as she sat down on the floor besides him, gripping his hand against her chest and leaning on him. She felt him nod and closed her eyes. "But you still have a future. You more than anyone should know better than to cling to the past so fiercely,"

"Easier said than done,"

Despite herself, she chuckled. "As always. But look around." The small room was cast in a ghostly glow; the candle's flame only extended as small circle of light around the two of them, and beyond it was the blue light of morning. "This is our home. We had good plans for it, didn't we? Those can still happen. Remember the names we'd chosen?"

It took him a moment to respond. "Jericho for a boy, Deirdre for a girl, right?"

"Hmm," she confirmed. "That can still happen."

"And if it doesn't?"

"We still have each other," she said simply. "We have that. You're not alone anymore."

Time couldn't be stopped, after all, and maybe that was for the best.

.

A day later the Selkie left early in the morning, his goodbye apologetic and hurried, but Korina stopped him long enough to shake his hand and say thanks.

xXx

Leuda was growing at a steady pace. Although during the first year of no miasma it had remained mostly the same, the next year it started to expand in bouts and leaps across the island and into the sea. The port had new docks and houses now lined the top of the cliff, their colorful roofs and stone walls an unfamiliar sight. Nonetheless, Nor Lit liked to see how the town had changed every time he returned from one of his travels.

The wood on the old pier that Tristan still preferred to dock at creaked under the weight of the merchant wagon that was unloading. Nor followed slowly behind it until it left the pier, allowing him to see his mother and older brother waiting for him at a corner.

It had been months since the festival at Tipa, and the caravanners' accounts were finally done, left back at Shella for archiving and later publishing. Nor readjusted the satchel that carried his copies as he approached his family. Gan Noo put an arm around his shoulder and said, "Finally back! Everything's finished, right? Please tell me this time you're gonna stay and take a rest, because, honestly, you look like crap."

"Thanks," Nor responded while their mother chuckled. "But yeah, I'll stay a while this time."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "A long while. Years long, even." Smiling, he put his arm around his brother's shoulder in return, and they started walking home.

Somewhere down the line he had become a writer. He hadn't had courage or vision, nor had he wielded weapons with skill, but committing words to paper felt like taking a small stance against the passing of time. Thomas had said that it was every bit as good as fighting. When he said that, Nor Lit gave him a sideways glance and the Clavat ducked his head away and changed the subject. He still wouldn't let go of his story. Nor told him not to worry- he was the last person who could pressure him about it; he was not ready to write it and who knew if the world was ready to hear it. For now it could stay among them.

Or maybe it would become a whisper circling the roads and towns, because before Nor Lit had finished the accounts, Thomas had entrusted him to deliver a letter in Alfitaria. Long and written on abused paper, the letter was addressed anonymously to Jona Esla.

The last time he made an effort to disclose the story came about a year later, when he asked Nor to return to Tipa for a moment to talk to Roland.

When Nor arrived at the elder's house he had to be guided to Roland's room, where the man laid on his bed, unable to get up anymore. Roland wondered what business such an odd visitor had, so Nor pulled up a stool and sat close, getting right to the point: they needed to talk. They were similar, he told the Elder; they'd both met someone who'd tried to save the word and failed. They'd watched as that person burnt themselves out without trying to stop them because they had had faith in them.

"Don't pity Hurdy because of what he tried to do, or because he didn't achieve it. I know that it is so scary to see someone choose to step out of the path we all follow; not knowing what is going to happen to them, and then realizing their fate. But they had a conviction we didn't, and…" he chuckled, shaking his head as Roland gripped his hand a little tighter. "And that makes them kinda heroic, don't you think?"

The Elder looked away, eyes half-closed, lost deep in thought. "I guess," he murmured in the end, and that was all he ever said about the subject.

.

Nor Lit thought about it a lot too, as the passing of time and the change of the world became more evident. The question of how that had happened still hung heavily in the air, and the more people pondered, the more Nor Lit wanted to answer it right. But where to start? How to explain so many things?

Sometimes everything came back to De Nam, starting at that one encounter in Shella and ending there, at his desk by the light of a candle, writing his musings to Adamanta. Apparently 'sometimes' must have been 'very frequently', because she commented on it more than once. She even asked him if he'd ever been in love with De Nam, because she was one of the few people who knew that was completely possible. Nor had answered that, no, he hadn't, at least not in the way she was probably thinking. The simple fact was that De Nam had proved to him that any person could try to make a change.

And then one day it hit him: the right way to tell the story was to start from where he started.

"There's a timeline, and I can weave it all together," he wrote. "Start from the side, then follow to the middle. Is there even a beginning? Who knows, but things need context, Ada; I can give it better than any."

He needed to introduce the world and its people at that point in time; if the story was going to end with gods and demons, it was better to start with reality- the struggle they all had known, the exceptional drive of those who tried to find a solution and how fragile that had made them.

As he found his reasons to stay in Leuda instead of constantly traveling and between more profitable projects, Nor worked slowly on the first parts of the tale; he even got Thomas to lend him Hurdy's letters, but even then he was unsure if he'd ever write the final part.

Until three years later when the miasma stream in Rebena Plains finally cleared.

xXx

In a month's time an expedition would depart from Shella to the land that laid beyond Rebena Plains. After more than four years of unanswered questions the floodgates had finally been opened, so Queen Fiona had proposed a joint expedition between the best of Shella's and Alfitaria's scholars and researchers in every possible field to explore the new frontier. Preparations had been going on for months, and royal and personal invitations had been sent to those best qualified.

Three months ago Amidatty told Nor Lit that he had reserved a spot for him. Nor thanked the Yuke, but he declined the offer and arranged for someone else to have his place.

The afternoon was passing rather quickly; he could have sworn that not too long ago it was only three past midday, only for the sun to already be going down beyond the horizon of Port Tipa. Perched on a rock, Nor's attention was divided between watching Adamanta follow the instructions of Thomas and Louvouz as she practiced her magic, and the people who were playing in the water. The tide was low, so the group was far away. His little brother was there, playing with Mateo's daughter and Samuel- although the older boy was supposed to be taking care of them he was more interested in talking with the moogle that hovered close by Korina.

Mog had returned to Tipa not too long ago, bringing the news of the cleared stream. Thomas had told Nor about how the moogle showed up at their door unannounced and bearing gifts- the biggest of which he carried warped in a cloth that he handed to Thomas almost immediately. After all that time he held Excalibur once again, but he'd preferred to throw it aside and welcome his old friend instead.

Nor suspected Mog's return had had something to do with Thomas' change of heart, and him finally deciding to let Nor Lit write his side of the story.

Sighing, he brought his attention to Adamanta once more. Writing was a passive activity and her training was a more pressing matter at the moment. Once he saw how Louvouz had stopped to explain something in detail to her, Not Lit stood up and approached Thomas.

"Do you think she's ready for the Abyss?" He asked the Clavat, who was standing to a side of the training ground.

Thomas threw an evaluating glance at Adamanta and then a similar one to Nor Lit. "She'll be safe. Lou is pretty good at explaining magic combat, and she's learned quickly and well. She's pretty good at fire magic-"

"Oh, she got that from me," Nor said proudly. Thomas furrowed his brow slightly at him and Nor's shoulder's slumped. "That was a joke."

Thomas only dignified him with a raised eyebrow and smirk. "Anyway. You say that the expedition is going to be pretty big, so there will be security in numbers. That doesn't mean it won't be dangerous, but she knows what to expect. And Lou will be with her so…" He trailed off, throwing Nor another glance before going to where they were keeping the water. Nor Followed "You know, you never said why it isn't you the one who's going with her." He said, opening a flask and taking a swig.

"Hey, you're the one who called me here."

"Well, yes, but… doesn't it interest you? The Abyss is something you can see and feel, not just the word of a man. You could _prove_ things instead of just, well, writing what I have to say."

"Don't be so sure!" Nor quickly interrupted, smirking. "I _would_ love to have concrete evidence of the parasite and its involvement in the creation of miasma- or at least test out De Nam's theories about it. They were fascinating! You know he mentioned the possibility of some of the components of miasma being alien to this world? Finally being able to complete his papers and try to see how well they fit with the truth would be awesome,"

He was pacing, but he stopped himself when he noticed it and turned to Thomas, who was looking at him with a mix of amusement and confusion. "But," Nor held up a finger. "All that really is is stones. Maybe sticks. And the truth is words can be just as powerful. You've said so yourself."

A slight smile cracked Thomas' lips, and he shook his head slightly.

"Besides, I want Ada to have the chance. Since she knows what really went on she can do all that researching for me, and it is just as important to her."

"I won't deny it's a good plan. You two make a good team."

Nor Lit smiled, looking over to where the Yuke girl was. It seemed she had asked for a break and sat down on the sand. Her sight had wandered further down the beach, to the arch on the cliff. Since the tide was so low it would be possible to go through it and explore the other side of the beach. Nor watched as she stood up and hesitatingly asked Louvouz if he would accompany her there.

Yukes aged differently from the rest of the tribes, but even if they were only a few years apart, Nor still thought of her as too young- not matter that she'd come of age already. "She'll be fine with Lou, right?"

"I promise," Thomas reassured him for the thirtieth time.

Nor sighed and went back to sit on the rock. "And you? What made you change your mind?" He asked.

The Clavat stopped arranging things in the bag they'd brought, turning his sight to the people in the water. After a pause, he shrugged. "Mateo hasn't stopped bothering me in years. I just want him to shut up."

The answer caught Nor Lit by surprise, making him laugh.

"I thought it was obvious." Thomas said, calmly but seriously.

"Was it the Moogle?"

"Only partly." He sighed, scratching his head. "To be frank I hadn't realized how much I'd missed Mog, or what it would mean if he came back. It's what they call a blast from the past, I guess; I was really getting used to being normal again."

"So are you ok?" Nor asked. He had asked him to train Adamanta, but they hadn't had the chance to talk face to face until now.

After a pause Thomas nodded. "I want to be. Mateo's right, you know; the person that goes into history doesn't have to be me. The one who ends up in paper can be the hero and be remembered or questioned or whatever. I just want to live my life."

Nor couldn't help but smile. At that moment someone called to Thomas from the shore, making him turn immediately.

"Pick up your stuff; we have to start going, otherwise we will be arriving at Mintie's house really late." Thomas said before picking up a towel and going to the little Clavat girl that was calling him.

If Korina hadn't been carrying her she would have surely run off- or at least tried, since at three years of age she was clumsy on her feet. So she had no option but to wait, holding onto her mother as she reached out her hand to Thomas, eager to show the shiny trinket she'd found buried in the sand.

Besides the chestnut-colored hair and grey eyes, Deirdre looked most like her mother. She was energetic and healthy, which was a blessing, since Korina's pregnancy had been difficult. It didn't matter what silly thing she'd found, Thomas gave her his full attention, taking her from Korina's arms when she wanted to look for more things in the shallow water. With a serious expression he held her above the waves as she searched; besides them Korina wrung the water off her skirt and called the other kids back.

Nor Lit stayed sitting as everyone else got ready to leave, only getting up to help his brother pack up his own bag and to tell him to get Adamanta and Louvouz. It was starting to get really dark. Up on the hill the group had a cart and papaopamus to take them to the farmhouse that was now between Tipa and the port.

Once everyone was starting to go up the trail, he stayed behind, taking a time to enjoy the view of the solitary, dark ocean shore. The sound of the waves washed over him, and he couldn't will himself to move. Every once in a while the weight of all the years he'd lived and what had become of him bore down on him- and he loved it. He didn't regret much, and what he did regret he now felt like he could set straight.

He felt a slight burn around his neck- it was the absence of the string of his portable crystal. It wasn't rare for people to sometimes forget that miasma didn't exist anymore; generations had lived used to it, and no one could erase hundreds of years of history- that wasn't the way memories were supposed to work.

Raem had been wrong. Nor Lit had never met him, but what the demon had said- that humans were meaningless, was stupid. If there was something he'd learned from the people who had tried to rid the world of miasma (and from the one who succeeded) was that people mattered to one another, and that was good enough. Humanity could have slowly perished in miasma, drained of memories. If no one had ever tried to fight that destiny, even when they knew they couldn't succeed, then_that_ would have made them meaningless.

Why had others seen these warriors as foolish? Nor Lit could remember way back when he'd doubted De Nam. He had feared having the way he thought changed, because the outcome was too uncertain. He had feared the idea of someone facing the unknown so selflessly.

De Nam had not worked towards a reward. Neither had Hurdy or Leon or Thomas- in their letters they always spoke about the world, about other people. Leon's son, his wife; the elder man who had cared for Hurdy in his youth. The Yuke girl who was only starting to learn alchemy; the sister who truly believed she'd get to see the world change.

Some of these warriors had worked in groups, others alone. But no matter how many they were at a time, they had always been separated from the world they worked so hard for. To Nor Lit this meant one thing, and with it he would begin his greatest work:

"The hero acts alone."

**The End**

* * *

Honestly, I have no clue what to say. I finished something. This...is new for me.

I hope I get to finish many more large projects. I loved writing this, and am so grateful for all the wonderful feedback I've received like you have no idea. I really think this is an awesome fandom, small as it is, and I totally plan on writing more for you guys. I'll probably even keep using these characters for one-shots and such, because honestly I get super attached to my characters and I still have _ideas_ and crap. There are a lot of technical things I wanna say, but I'll leave that for livejournal and keep this short. Will proceed to clean the whole thing in the next few days and that will be it for this thing.

Edit: went back and finally, finally added proper splits in the text. I really hope the site doesn't decide to get rid of periods or Xs, otherwise it'll look like a sausage again and I may not even notice. Any other borked things I'm blaming on the site because this thing was squeaky clean in the word documents. Either way, I wanted to add that I actually incorporated an idea from the end of A World Lit Only by Fire, since I finished that book as I was writing this chapter and the things in the book fit so much with the story. It just helped me put things more succinctly.

See you next story.


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